


Yours Truly

by TheBohemian



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Character Death(s), Rimming, Slow Build, Slurs, Smut, Transphobia, Young Love, bottom!Armin, bottom!Eren, top!Eren, top!armin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 111,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBohemian/pseuds/TheBohemian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they're young and naive, friendship blossoms easily between Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert. But, as time passes, feelings begin to shift. Eren finds himself dating his sister's best friend, while Armin can't quite shake the thought that it should be him Eren is dating. After years of pining and fruitless hoping, Armin finally comes clean about his crush on the day of their high school graduation. Time is not on the boys' side and once summer vacation ticks to a close Eren is shipped off to Army Basic Training while Armin finds himself furthering his school career. Distance isn't kind, and, inevitably, the relationship falls apart. Eight years pass slowly without Eren to lean on, but Armin treks on. Though he's plagued by grief, he continues living the best he can. Slowly, he finds hope in old friends and begins to build himself up as an individual without clinging to the memory of Eren.<br/>That is until Eren's life violently collides with Armin's own when he moves into the apartment next door.<br/>Ultimately, Armin is left with his toughest decision thus far, does he fight tooth and nail to stay away from Eren and regain the independence he lost, or does he throw himself back into the fire he just narrowly escaped?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! Here's my second eremin multi-chapter fic, and I'm positive it's going to outshine my first by far! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at satlliitestars.tumblr.com  
> I'm always checking it throughout the day, so if you ever upload fan works or comments about this fic or any of my others please tag it with my url or "thebohemianao3" so I can find it and give it the praise and admiration it deserves! You guys rock thank you so much from your support and kindness through this journey.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren Jaeger is forced to befriend the boy across the street, and really, it turns out he isn't so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope this is a good introduction for the pain that surely follows  
> I appreciate any support and lovin' from you guys, and you can find me at satelliitestars.tumblr.com

At the age of 11 and three quarters, Eren Jaeger had his first sleepover with the boy across the street. 

They weren't friends. In all honesty, Eren barely even knew the boy's name. There were very few things Eren knew about the neighboring blond boy with the big blue eyes, and all the things he did know made him a less than appealing friend.

He knew that they went to the same school because they rode the same bus. Blue eyes sat in the front while Eren crammed himself into the back with the rest of the troublemakers. The other boy was at the top of all the smart kid classes and got to take care of the third grade science teacher's class bird as a reward, while Eren lived in the principal's office. The blonde stayed indoors during all hours of the day, whereas Eren's father had pitched a tent in their backyard where Eren had lived through the entire summer, only retreating inside to steal snacks and juice pouches to stock his Igloo cooler with. 

The other boy was clean, proper, mannerly, and thoughtful. Eren practically sweat dirt, only bathing when forced into the shower by his stronger-than-she-looks mother, and he'd pick a fight with anything that provoked him.

There were no two people more opposite than Eren and the boy across the street.

They weren't meant to be friends. Their parents, however, were. 

 

"Eren," his father had said over dinner, studying his plate more than anyone in the room.

As a form of a reply, Eren remained silent, only looking over his own fork with limited interest. 

"Armin Arlert will be spending the night with us this coming Saturday," Grisha continued, dabbing at the edges of his mouth with his napkin. "Or spending the night with you, rather."

"Who?" Eren asked, shoving his fork back into his mashed potatoes. 

"Armin. The Arlert's child."

"Yeah, I got that from the name. I don't know who that is," Eren replied shortly.

"He lives across the street," Mikasa cut in before their father could become angry with Eren's attitude. "He's nice. He's in my math class."

"Oh," eyebrows knit together, Eren folded his arms over his stomach. "No. Why? I don't like him."

"Because," his mother interjected softly, "Armin is having a hard time adjusting to Trost. His parents are worried. He's a sweet boy, Eren, he just wants a friend."

"Why me?" Eren scowled, "it's not  _my_ fault he doesn't fit in."

"Eren, need I remind you that you don't exactly have the greatest friends either?"

"At least I have friends, _mom_."

"And now Armin does, too," his father added with finality, "you."

Eren gave a frustrated sigh through his nose, face pinching in an ugly frown. 

"It's just one night, Eren," Mikasa rolled her eyes, standing to take her plate to the sink. "Stop being a baby." She collected his plate as she passed, giving him an excuse to push away from the table with a loud scrape against the tile flooring. 

"I'm not a baby," he spat, before fleeing to his room on the upper level for added effect. 

"Of course not," he heard his sister sigh from the top of the stairwell. 

Angry tears flooded his eyes. That was easy for her to say. She didn't have to hang out with people she didn't like. She didn't have to entertain someone who made her look bad by comparison. 

She didn't understand. 

 

The sleepover was set to begin on a Saturday afternoon at exactly three. 

He tried not to seem anxious, but it was hard to conceal as he sat in the window for two and a half hours straight, face pressed against freshly cleaned glass, as he watched the neighboring house awaiting his reputation's end to step out of the front door. 

"What was his name?" Eren called through the house, "Alfred?"

"Armin," Mikasa corrected him from behind. Her hand clamped against his shoulder, pulling him away from the glass for the fifth time in the same hour. Windex occupied the other hand. "And would you stop doing that? I told mom I would clean the windows, and you're messing it up."

Eren rolled his eyes and sat back when she squeezed past him yielding a wet rag that smelled like cat piss and chemicals. 

"Jesus Christ, what is that?" He coughed into his sleeve.

She didn't grace him with an answer, rather she hit him in the back of the head with the Windex bottle she carried. 

"There he is," she announced as she distractedly scrubbed Eren's face print off of the pane of glass. 

Eren could feel the smile in her tone. He shoved past her, pressing back against the window.

"Eren!" She growled. 

"How am I supposed to be friends with him?" Eren whined as they both watched the boy totter across the gravel road that separated their lawns, toting two overstuffed bags. Both bags seemed heavy by the way he struggled, hiking them high above his head as he made his way across the uneven path. 

Once his feet made contact with the Jaeger property line, Mikasa made a point to shove Eren out of the bay window seat. He landed painfully against the carpeted floor.

"Go help him," she hissed, still rubbing at the same spot on the glass. 

"Why?" Eren grumbled in return.

"He's your company, and he's cute and in distress. You live to help cute kids in distress."

"I hit a kid for knocking someone off the slide in Kindergarten, and this is the thanks I get."

Eren slung the door open, and it creaked on its hinges before clattering against the brick home. The noise made Armin snap upright; he looked bug eyed and startled.

"Hey!" Eren called, crossing the lawn in long strides.

"Hi!" The other boy returned, attempting a wave which, in turn, made him to drop a bag. He made a disgruntled sound while stooping down to get it. As he moved in a downward motion, his other bag tumbled off his back and into the grass. Eren huffed a sigh when he caught Mikasa's glare through the window. 

"Let me help you," Eren said just low enough that only he could hear it. From the corner of his eye, he caught the thumbs up his sister threw in his direction. He rolled his eyes. 

Eren bent down at Armin's feet, collecting the bags in his arms. They were a lot lighter than he'd been led to believe. When he moved to resume standing, he realized that he and the boy stood nearly nose to nose, Armin being just a fraction shorter than he was. 

"I'm Eren," he said in an uncharacteristically quiet tone whilst taking a fraction of a step backwards.

Armin followed his lead by taking a step back himself. "I'm sorry. I could've gotten those. I didn't mean to be any trouble."

"Relax," Eren instructed, waving away Armin's concerns with a flick of his wrist. "I don't know much about you, but I do know that your name isn't sorry."

The smile Armin cracked almost made the terrible joke worth saying. 

"I'm Armin," he amended. 

"Cool. Let me show you around," Eren jerked his head in the direction of the house. 

"Okay," Armin nodded and motioned for Eren to take the lead. "I'm really surprised you invited me over," he said softly as they took the stairs leading up to Eren's bedroom two at a time.

"Yeah, so am I," Eren muttered, slinging his bedroom door open so that it crashed against the nearest wall. "This is my room," he said, one arm spread wide in the open space, "the bathroom is the first door down the hall to the right. The room on the left is my sister's room. My parents stay downstairs most of the time. And that's the grand tour."

Unceremoniously, Eren dropped both of Armin's bags in the center of his bedroom. 

"So, what kind of things do you like to do?" Eren asked once Armin's silence became uncomfortable and the air was growing increasingly thick. 

"I read mostly. Well, my grandpa reads to me. I draw sometimes, too." He looked away, cheeks dusted pink.

Eren cleared his throat. "Okay. What kinds of  _fun_ things do you like to do?"

Armin only shrugged.

"Do you know how to fish in a creek?"

"I don't," Armin admitted.

"Well," Eren said, taking Armin by the wrist and pulling him towards the staircase they'd just ascended. "I know what we're doing today."

Armin was willingly tugged away. 

 

"Okay," Eren said, ankle deep in the creek. The tackle box he had taken from his garage sat by Armin's side on the steep bank. "All we have to do is catch some bugs, hook them onto the end of one of those bigger hooks, and throw them in and wait."

"That's it?" Armin asked.

"Yeah! That's it. Anyone can do this. I mean, normally dad buys bait, but since he didn't this time, we have to catch it. Is that cool with you?"

"Definitely," Armin confirmed, standing and brushing the back of his pants to remove excess dirt. "What do we put the bugs in?"

Eren nodded and stooped down, pulling a large Tupperware bowl from the box at Armin's feet. 

"This. It has holes in it and everything so they can breathe."

"Okay," Armin giggled. "Well, then let's catch some bugs."

Eren nodded in agreement. "But first-" he knelt by the creek bed and swiped his hands through the mud there, dragging the sopping wet dirt in two thick lines across his cheeks. 

They dripped down his face and ran along his jaw, forming small droplets at the point of his chin. 

"We have to show the bugs we mean business," Eren explained, not failing to notice Armin's bewildered expression.

"Oh, right," Armin laughed. "I didn't think they would pay attention to that sort of thing."

"Bugs are weird," Eren smirked, rubbing his thumb along the apple of Armin's right cheek. He squirmed at the touch, but otherwise allowed Eren to do as he pleased. "See, before now, you weren't scary at all. Now you look tough, though. They'll know who's boss."

Armin took a brief moment to study himself in the glistening water of the creek bed and couldn't help but crack a smile. "I think I look dumb."

Eren cleaned his hands on his grimy jeans while shaking his head with surety. "Nah, dude, you look awesome now."

"I do?" Armin's already pink cheeks deepened in color under the intensity of the sun combined with Eren's open staring. 

"Sure," he shrugged. "You go that way, and I'll hunt for grasshoppers over here."

Armin nodded his understanding and darted off in the direction Eren had pointed him in. 

As it turned out, catching bugs was much more difficult than Eren had made it out to be, and Armin found much more joy in watching Eren kick up trails of dust in an attempt to catch insects that skittered past him. 

"How's it going, Armin?" Eren called across the backyard, rubbing at his brow, dripping with sweat.

"No luck," Armin shook his head, blond hair sticking in the smear across his cheek.

"Well, crap," Eren huffed.

"What if we just try to catch the fish with our hands?" Armin asked, holding his muddy hair back at the base of his neck.

At first, Eren's expression contorted into something that resembled disbelief and mockery, but within a second his eyes softened and his jaw unhinged just slightly.

"That's- Yeah! Let's do that! Come on!"

Armin laughed and ran back to where the tackle box lie in the grass. Eren was the first in the water, splashing about wildly.

"Aren't you going to scare them away?" Armin screamed over Eren's laughing and whooping. 

"They'll come back!" Eren replied, splashing Armin with a handful of water.

Armin screamed and ran in reverse up the embankment. "That's cold!" He shrieked.

"You bet it is," Eren giggled, gap-toothed smile stretching ear to ear. "Come on! Maybe it'll get warmer with more people in it."

"I really doubt that," Armin countered, creeping back towards the water's edge.

Eren waded through the water until he stood directly in front of Armin, hand outstretched. Armin studied his hand skeptically when he wiggled his fingers. 

"Come on," Eren repeated, "I won't let you drown or anything."

"Eren, it's like two feet deep. I won't drown no matter what."

Eren huffed. "Well, I can't be cold and wet alone, dude. If you want my friendship, this will seal the deal. Get your butt in the creek."

"I really don't want my butt in the creek," Armin frowned, allowing Eren to latch onto his hand. "Can't I stop at my ankles or something?"

"Nope," Eren replied shortly before jerking on Armin's hand and propelling them both backwards into the shallow water. 

Armin, mercifully, landed on top of Eren who pushed himself onto his elbows, cackling loudly. The icy water lapped at his sides and numbed him to the core until his teeth began to chatter.

"I don't want this friendship anymore," Armin laughed, pushing Eren's head back under water before heaving himself onto his knees and hovering over Eren's lap.

"You'll never find anyone like me," Eren smiled when he resurfaced, spitting water back into the creek.

Armin wrinkled his nose. "I know. That's what I'm hoping for."

As a response, Eren pushed Armin back over into the creek bed and sat upright. His smile was broad and his eyes formed small squints, cresting over his rounded cheeks. Two teeth were missing from the top row. "Liar," Eren said as Armin gasped and scurried into a seated position. The water splashed up to the chest pocket on his overalls. "Your butt is in the water, by the way. Friendship official."

"Can I just have a towel?" Armin pouted. The mud from his cheek dripped down the entire right side of his face, outlining his jutting lower lip.

Eren smirked. "Yeah, come on. I'm freezing, and I just learned how to make coffee a couple days ago."

 

It turned out that Eren did not, in fact, master the concept of coffee making, and his methods created something that probably resembled what battery acid sweetened with kerosene would taste like. Armin drank his portion without complaint, though, because Eren was proud of his concoction. It settled like tar in the pit of his stomach, yet somehow Eren managed to down two extra cups before tossing his mug in the sink. 

"D-don't you need to wash those?" Armin asked, fingers knotted together anxiously, "I can do it. Where's your dish soap?"

"Nah, dude, I just-"

"Can we keep him?" A female voice cut Eren short from the living area just beyond the kitchen. "Better yet, can we replace Eren with him?"

"No," a man's voice replied from an unknown room at the end of a short and wide hallway.

Eren stood with his arms folded over his chest, eyes rolled into the back of his head and a deep frown etched in place. "This is my family. That's Mikasa," he pointed into the living room where a girl their age sat cross legged on the couch; her contours were outlined by the glow of the television. She gave a slight amicable wave. "My sister," he added for clarification, "and then my parents are in their room, but you already know them."

"Hi, sweetheart," Eren's mother greeted him from the doorway of her bedroom, robed in an over-sized sleeping gown that brushed the back of her shins. 

"Hi, Mrs. Jaeger," Armin smiled, his fingers were still tangled together in a chaotic mess. His knuckles were starch white against his already pale skin. His nervous energy was enough to make Eren begin feeling uneasy. Without preamble, Eren grabbed one of his hands and held it by his side in the most comforting action he could come up with. Armin, after slight hesitation, twined their fingers together, and squeezed hard every time he breathed.

"Call me, Carla." She said in a voice like velvet as she tied her hair to the side in a loose ponytail. "If you need anything we'll be here. Help yourself to the kitchen any time you'd like. I assume Eren showed you where the bathrooms are?"

"Yes ma'am. He did."

Eren nodded in conformation. "I can draw him a blueprint if you want."

Carla elected to ignore Eren's comment and instead maintained eye contact with Armin as though he'd never said anything. "You boys have a good night, alright? Don't stay up too late. We'll know about it. Eren," her gaze shifted, "understood?"

"Yes, mom. I understand. We'll only be up until like 4:30, tops."

"Goodnight, boys." Carla said past a tired smile. "And that goes for you, too, Mikasa. No staying up late."

"I know, "she twisted around to look over the back of the couch. "I'll turn it off after this."

After some consideration, Eren's mother nodded and shut her bedroom door. 

"Yeah Mikasa. Don't stay up too late, you delinquent," Eren teased from the base of the stairs. 

"Shut up. Stop bothering me, and bother Armin instead," she fired back, tossing a throw pillow in his general direction. It thudded against a wall and fell to the ground with a soft thump. 

"I don't bother Armin. He likes me," Eren seemed confident in his response. He didn't bother looking at Armin for conformation.

He wasn't wrong, regardless.

It was only then that Eren seemed to become aware of the fact that their hands were still intertwined and he dropped his grasp immediately. 

"He's misguided because he doesn't have to live with you," Mikasa said coolly, flopping against the couch cushions with her feet peeking over the armrest.

"Whatever," Eren spat, "night, loser."

"Night, nerd. Night, Armin."

 

"I like your family," Armin whispered as he followed Eren upstairs, "they're really nice."

Eren shrugged, turning to walk across the landing to his room without sparing a glance back to be sure Armin was following. "They're alright, I guess."

"No, they're great," Armin argued.

"Dude," Eren spun on the balls of his feet to face Armin, "if you think this is great, what is _your_ family like?"

"They're great too," Armin laughed when Eren gave him an unbelieving look. "Really, they are. They just aren't really home much. That's all."

"What do you mean? Your parents don't live at your house? That would be the good life, dude."

"Well, I mean, yes, they do, when they're here. They're church missionaries, so they travel a lot and don't come home for months sometimes," Armin explained as he studied the floor. "It's just me and grandpa most of the time. That's part of why we moved. It's easier for him to look after me when we live in the same house, you know?"

Eren nodded while heaving the door to his room open and shoving clutter out of the way to give Armin room to walk.

"What were your old friends like?" Eren asked while pushing himself onto his bed which sat high up like a throne. 

"I didn't have any there either," Armin mumbled beneath his breath, studying his feet with undivided intensity. "That's that also part of why mom and dad thought moving would be a good idea. They thought I could get a new start with new kids, and grandpa lived here anyway, so it seemed like a good idea, but-" he gave a humorless laugh, "nothing changed. People still don't like me."

"I like you," Eren said too quickly.

"Well, yeah, after you pushed me into a creek of ice water," Armin smiled, "by the way, if I get sick, I'm suing you."

"I have like five dollars and some lint."

"I'll take what I can get," Armin gave a smile that didn't quite meet his wide eyes gone dim. "Seriously though, you're my only friend, and until tonight, you didn't like me either."

"You have Mikasa, too. That's a good start."

Armin tilted his head in consideration. "I guess you're right," he smiled. 

"Well, obviously," Eren scoffed as if it were the most clear thing in the world before throwing himself back against his mattress and staring blankly at the popcorn ceiling. "You've got us now, buddy. We may not be much, but mom buys really good snacks sometimes, so that counts for something. And since you live across the street, you can come and steal some any time."

"What are you friends like?" Armin asked.

Eren laughed. "Jean Kirschtein, Connie Springer, and Reiner Braun. Jean's a rich kid who thinks he owns the world. Connie's an idiot and his future revolves around women and drinking, he swears on it. Reiner failed a few times and now he's 14 and still in sixth grade. My parents don't approve, so we never get to hang out outside of school. So really, you're my only friend who's likable."

"Well, you've gathered yourself an interesting crew," Armin said in an attempt to be supportive.

"Is 'interesting' just your way of saying I'm in with the wrong crowd? Because my mom said the same thing. Dad said he always knew I'd go to Juvy, but that's a different story."

"No," Armin shook his head, picking at Eren's duvet, "I don't know if they're the wrong crowd or not. They just seem interesting, that's all."

"They are," Eren agreed. Seconds seemed to extend into hours, and his eyes were beginning to sting as sleep weighed him down.

When Armin pushed himself off the bed, Eren hardly noticed. "What're you doin'?" He asked, voice groggy.

"I'm going to sleep," Armin replied softly, grabbing one of the two bags he carried across the gravel road. "I brought my grandpa's sleeping bag. He promised it was comfortable. Where should I put it?"

"No where?" Eren replied, propping himself up on his elbow, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. 

Armin's face fell, eyes wide with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"We have a guest bedroom," Eren said, "or we can both sleep in my bed. It's big enough, I think?"

Hugging his sleeping bag securely against his chest, Armin eyed Eren with visible concern. "I- Are you sure? I mean I'm okay with sleeping on the floor. I really don't mind, I've done it before."

"Armin," Eren deadpanned, "either get on this bed or let me show you where the guest bedroom is. I should've just drawn blueprints."

Armin went through minutes of mental deliberation before sighing and pulling himself onto Eren's bed. 

"If you change your mind, just shove me into the floor, okay?"

Eren barely acknowledged the request with a quiet hum as he reached to turn off his bedside lamp. "Goodnight, Armin."

"Night," Armin whispered into the darkness.

His heart thrummed to the rhythm of Eren's steady breathing, and in that moment, Armin wondered if there was any way to freeze time or bottle happiness. He knew that no good thing lasted forever, his parents had told that only God could supply forever, but that wouldn't stop him from hoping that Eren would want to keep him for as close to forever as possible. 

He fell asleep face to face with Eren, their hands intertwined between their sleeping figures and under layers of blankets. 

Armin had never felt so warm. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically just recapping Armin's years in middle school through a series of memories which built up his relationships with his friends. These all mount to his first year of high school.  
> It's just cute, okay. Lots of happiness and friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY CHAPTER TWO.  
> A LONG CHAPTER TWO.  
> This is probably the fastest turn around I've ever had in my writing?? Wow wow. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at satelliitestars.tumblr.com! As always kudos and comments are wonderful. Thank you for reading my mess.

Childhood passed in a blurred series of minuscule events which managed to redefine everything Armin understood about life and love. 

On their three month anniversary of friendship, Eren announced that he and Armin were going on an adventure into the woods which bordered the Jaeger property and extended into dark unknowns. 

"Eren, I feel like that's probably not a very good idea. At all." Armin said, staring wide eyed past his friend and into the darkening forest under the hazy dusk sky. Deep greying purples consumed vibrant blue and fat cotton clouds as time passed on this particular November afternoon. "Can't we do it in the day time? You know? When we can see all the animals that might  _eat_ us?"

Eren, as confident as ever, shook his head with vigor. "Nothing's going to eat us. Animals sleep at night."

"And who told you that?" Armin sighed, completely unconvinced.

"I dunno. I think I heard it when Mikasa was watching The Discovery Channel, or Animal Planet, or Food Network or something. I don't know. It'll be fun, though!" Eren pulled a face of sheer distress, tanned skin marred with elongated shadows. Wide green eyes glistened in the pale light of the newly-born night sky. "Dad set up a tent and everything. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Did I mention that we could get eaten?"

"Besides that!"

Armin sighed, resigning to Eren's undoubtedly terrible idea. "Bugs? Maybe? There is nothing good about the woods at night, Eren."

Eren recognized his slow oncoming victory and broke into a toothy smile. "Ill protect you from the bugs, okay? You can even hold my hand if you want so if something wants to eat us we'll get eaten together. Sound good?"

"I hope you get eaten first," Armin grumbled, forcing a hand through his wildly mussed hair. 

"If I do, tell Mikasa that her girly lotions smell weird, and that I'm mom's favorite, okay?"

Armin huffed. "Whatever you say, Eren."

Eren nodded his approval before turning to stare into the increasing darkness, hand balled around the miniature flashlight he'd stashed in the cargo pocket of his shorts. "We're like Indiana Jones and Marion Ravenwood," Eren said while practically vibrating out of his skin. "You ready?"

"Do you want my honest answer?"

"No."

"Well," Armin said past pouted lips, "then yes I am so ready."

"Good," Eren extended one hand while firmly grasping his dim flashlight in the other, "maybe we'll find treasure."

"Or a new kind of animal," Armin offered to which Eren nodded eagerly.

"Or... or maybe we'll find more kids to play with!"

Armin laughed and allowed Eren to pull him past the wood's edge in one jerking motion. 

Low hanging limbs reached out and grabbed Armin's hair violently as they passed through thick patches of withering trees. Their limbs were black against the night sky, gnarled and ugly with claws for fingers which snagged skin, hair, and clothes alike. 

Every time Armin would make any sort of noise signalling discomfort, Eren would latch onto Armin's hand tighter until Armin could feel the lasting imprints of Eren's fingers pressing into his skin. 

"Do you even know where we're going?" Armin dared to ask when the purple had been erased from the sky and only black remained. The few stars which dotted the cloudless night offered little aid in guiding their path.

"Nah," Eren offered, unconcerned. "I'm pretty sure it'll be really cool, though."

Though Armin hadn't believed him at first, after an additional twenty minutes of stumbling over roots, slipping on leaves, and being yanked around by rogue tree limbs, the boys arrived at a small clearing where the trees inexplicably thinned and rocks sat scattered about the edge of the same creek that ran through Eren's backyard. The moon reflected off its rippling surface, electric and vivid against the inky waters. Fallen leaves and grassy patches of wild flowers were blue in hue under the low sitting moon. A bitter breeze whistled through the trees, making Armin shrink into himself.

Immediately, Eren stripped himself of his jacket and forced it against Armin's chest, covered only in a thin t-shirt. "I'm too hot most of the time, anyway," Eren said before Armin could even try to prove that he wasn't cold. 

The argument had formed on his lips, but when the temperature dropped and the wind showed no signs of stopping, Armin slipped it over his shoulders with a timid smile. "The good news is," he said, keeping his chattering teeth at bay despite the chill in the late November air, "we definitely haven't died yet."

"Told you I knew what I was doing."

"You thought you heard an animal documentary on Food Network," Armin barely suppressed a giggle as he wandered the edges of the clearing brushing his fingers along dying saplings. 

"Shut up," Eren laughed openly, stooping to ball hand fulls of leaves into a massive wad before firing them in Armin's direction. The minute he released them, they exploded into the Autumn air and slowly drifted down to earth carried by the shift in the steady breeze. "That wasn't what I was going for," Eren admitted, scratching at the back of his head with a lazy smile pulling at his lips, lopsided and lively all the same.

Armin broke into a fit of unmasked laughter. "That was really close, though. You almost had me."

"Next time, Arlert," Eren warned, waggling his forefinger in the open air, "next time you're in for it." Eren paused, studying their surroundings before a mischievous smile crept onto his dirty face. A thin line of drying blood near his left eyebrow was highlighted under the unfiltered moonlight. Armin assumed the trees were to blame as he felt as though his face and arms were littered with tiny scrapes. "Let's play hide-and-seek."

"How about no, not a chance," Armin said, finally finding ground to put his foot down.

"It'll be fun, party pooper," Eren said past his jutting lower lip, "You can even hide first. And I'll count extra long."

"Eren-"

"Come on, Armin! You'll definitely win because it's dark and there's lots of places to hide, and I won't cheat or anything." Eren pleaded as he flicked his flashlight off. "See? No cheating," for further validation, he shoved the device back into the pocket it had originated from and held his hands in the air. 

Armin frowned. "How high are you going to count?"

"I dunno. Maybe to like thirty or something," Eren shrugged noncommittally. "Does that mean you're going to play?"

"Just one round," Armin said in weary conformation.

" _Yes!"_ Eren shouted, jumping into the air with a fist pounding the open space there. "Go hide, go hide!" He barked as he shuffled around and leaned against the nearest tree, hiding his face and calling out numbers at full volume. 

Armin wasted no time in sprinting into the woods in frantic search of the perfect hiding place. The trees were much too slender to hide behind and no rocks were rounded tall enough for him to sit comfortably behind. As the number Eren called out crept closer to thirty, Armin found that he had no choice but to force himself into the hole of a hollow fallen log, soggy from rain. 

The smell inside of the log was enough to make Armin instantly regret his decision as the odors of mildew and soggy earth burned his nostrils. Still, he sat silently, wedged between the dripping walls of his container. Dampened leaves soaked the fronts of his pants legs causing them to stick uncomfortably to his skin. 

"Ready or not," Eren screamed into the vast expanse of trees, "here I come."

Armin, in fact, had never been less ready in his entire life. His legs had begun cramping from being tucked under his torso at such an awkward angle. The dank stench made his eyes water and clung to his hair. And, as if all of those things combined weren't bad enough, he could've sworn he'd heard something shuffling in the trees just behind his back. In the cramped quarters of the interior of the log, it was impossible for Armin to turn and confirm his fears, rather he had to sit in silence and allow his imagination to take over. 

He wondered if bears lived in this area. He also wondered if foxes ever ate people. Maybe he wouldn't even be eaten, he pondered, maybe he'd just be clawed to death by some angry wild animal with red eyes and nails like saw blades. His shallow breathing picked up in pace, and he could barely hear Eren's footfalls in the distance as he hunted for his lost friend. 

Again, there was a distinct shuffling in the leaves just beyond Armin's line of sight. Armin froze, heart beating erratically inside of his small chest. The harder his heart hammered, the more distinct the pain became. 

Calm was a thing of the past when Armin heard the sound of something breathing. He squealed and scrambled out of his claustrophobic hiding place, limbs flailing and words failing him until Eren entered his peripheral.

"I  _HEAR_ SOMETHING, EREN," Armin cried out with both hands clutched over his pounding chest.

Eren froze. "What?"

"There is something out here," Armin hissed, verging on tears though he desperately struggled to keep them at bay. 

Nodding, Eren took cautious steps forwards, yielding his flashlight though the bulb was still off. "Get behind me," he instructed valiantly with a hand outstretched to tug Armin behind his back. 

Armin sniffled and cleared his throat. Both boys took slow, backward steps in unison as they stared the log down, its form beginning to cave under heavy rot. 

"When I count to three, I'm going to turn the light on," Eren whispered.

Armin only managed a nod, blond hair sticking to the cold sweat on his brow.

"One."

Armin tensed.

"Two."

Their hands latched together. 

"Three."

Nails dug into flesh.

The light flicked on, much brighter than Armin remembered, and something darted through dry leaves causing Eren to release a terrified yell. Armin turned to flee, shoes slipping on wet patched of grass as he tried fruitlessly to peel away from the scene. After only a few moments of struggling, Eren's arm found Armin's waist, and they charged through the undergrowth and crowded tree trunks much faster than they'd entered. 

Twigs swiped Armin's face and ripped the skin there, but Eren pushed onward until they were a safe distance away from the clearing, huddled behind the wide trunk of an aged oak tree. 

"What was it?" Eren panted, wide eyed and on red alert as he peaked around the trunk, palms pressed flush against the rough bark. "I wonder if it was deadly."

"I don't want to find out," Armin muttered, rubbing at a larger scrape in the hollow of his cheek.

Eren spun on the balls of his feet to recline against the tree. "I do."

"Eren," Armin said in both warning and frustration. 

"I just wanna see what it is! We survived once."

"That's enough adventure for one night," Armin's voice was nothing less than a hiss.

Eren scoffed. "What would Marion Ravenwood do?"

"Something stupid."

"I just want to see what it is," Eren folded his arms over his chest.

"We almost died."

"We made a memory."

"By almost dying," Armin spat. 

"I'm going to go check it out," Eren decided, and left Armin on his own in the dark as he wandered back down the trail they'd just blazed. 

"Eren!" Armin huffed as he watched the flashlight become ever dimmer in the all consuming night. 

He wasn't graced with a reply. Only the sound of light footsteps on fall leaves resounded in the silence as Eren walked further away. Armin glared in his general direction and waited. 

Minutes passed before Eren returned, cackling, with his arms wrapped securely around his torso before he literally busted his gut. 

"What?" Armin asked, stepping out from behind the cover of the oak. 

"It was a rabbit, dude," Eren gasped for air, causing him to snort, as he wiped the tears from the corners from his eyes. "I almost pissed myself because of a rabbit."

"It was a terrifying rabbit," Armin said, not sparing Eren a glance as he trekked back to where Grisha had assembled their tent for the night.

Eren, still fighting his fit of giggles, bumped hips with Armin as the walk. "It was a terrifying, rabbit. It had those creepy red eyes and everything. That's not natural."

"Did the Food Network teach you that, too?" Armin asked softly.

"Nah," Eren laced his fingers through Armin's hair and tucked his friend closely against his side, "that's just common sense."

 

The night progressed in even further terror when Eren suggested that they exchange the scriest stories they could possibly come up with. The result of their storytelling was both boys sleeping curled around one another out of terrified necessity.

"I'll protect you if the ghosts come, Armin," Eren promised in a sleepy stupor. Fatigue slurred his words.

"Okay," Armin whispered, focusing his gaze on the flashlight that rested between them rather than Eren's intensely sincere eyes which bore straight through him. "Thanks, Eren."

"You bet."

The weight of Eren's arm was a comfort to Armin as he rested with his head tucked under the other boy's chin.

When the sun peaked through the trees and the birds returned to chase the dark away, they were both stirred away by the light.

"I have an idea," Eren said while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Armin replied with an audible yawn.

"Let's go back to our spot. We can play there now because it's safe." 

Judgement clouded with sleep, Armin only nodded.

 

"You wanna have a sword fight?" Eren asked once they'd relocated the clearing. Somehow, it'd been much easier to find at night. 

"Do I want to what?" Armin asked incredulously, now wide awake. Eren's jacket hung loosely from his shoulders. 

"You know- have a sword fight? We'll both get big sticks and swing them at each other."

"Seriously?" Armin frowned, pulling Eren's jacket closer into his sides. "Actually, don't answer that because I know you're serious, and I know you're about to ask what's the worst that can happen."

Eren nodded, vibrant gleam in his eyes withstanding.

"There are so many bad things that can happen by swinging big sticks at each other, Eren. I don't need to explain that to you." Armin folded his arms over his chest. They resorted to staring one another down, dead set in their arguments.

"Well, Armin, that's why you block the other person's stick with yours. That way you don't actually get hit."

Armin found that it was becoming increasingly difficult to say no to any of Eren's zany or outlandish ideas.  If hitting Eren with a stick was what would keep him happy, then, well, who was Armin to disagree. "Only if you agree to use medium sized sticks. I refuse to let you hit my with a tree limb. I know how you work."

"Fine, I'll just use a branch then. I'll still kick your ass," Eren jabbed, scuffling off into the woods on the hunt for a suitable weapon.

Armin rolled his eyes. 

 

They found one another in the center of the clearing, surrounded by a makeshift ring of unevenly spaced stones. 

"Ready?" Eren asked, devilish smile held securely in place. He wasn't kidding when he said he was going to use a limb.

"Don't ask dumb questions," Armin grumbled, stick in hand. "A don't hit me hard, either."

"I wouldn't do that," Eren retorted, though Armin was less than confident in how much he meant it. 

"Okay, then I'm ready."

"Round One!" Eren shouted at their imaginary audience. Armin laughed breathlessly. "Fight!"

Eren charged with his limb in hand, swinging wildly. Armin dodged his attacks, clumsy on his own feet. He stumbled more than he swayed and found himself on his bottom within a minute.

"Victory!" Eren laughed as he held a hand out to pull Armin back onto his feet. "You okay?"

Armin hummed and readied himself back in the center of the circle, blood simmering with more determination. "Round two?"

"Round Two!" Eren announced while assuming his fighting stance. "Fight!"

It was Armin who made the first move in the second round of their fight. He giggled as he swung and their branches collided. Loose pieces of bark sprayed on impact. Armin squealed and covered his eyes until Eren jabbed him in the side with the end of his weapon. 

Armin set his mouth in a firm line and went in for a second attack, which was, again, blocked. After five attempts at overpowering his friend, Armin was beginning to believe his chances at victory were slim until Eren made one wrong move, taking a step back and stumbling over one of the outlying stones. 

He gasped, falling backwards with a hard thud and a loud snap, followed by a muffled scream which Eren released into the crook of his arm. Armin slung his stick behind him, running to Eren's aid. 

Blood poured from an open gash just above the other boy's elbow. It flowed freely and took little time to form a shallow puddle around Eren's fist, fingers ground into the damp earth in an attempt to contain his suffering. The points of a broken bottle glistened from under a few fallen leaves, now painted red. 

"Come on," Armin whispered, struggling to lift Eren to his feet and guide him from the clearing. "Come on, we have to get your parents."

"No," Eren bit, clamping a hand against the wound. "I'm okay. I promise I'm okay."

"Too bad, we're going home."

They struggled through the woods, the early morning sun filtered through the heavily wooded area, making navigating a simple task. Armin was grateful for that. But, before they were too far away from the clearing, Eren stopped and refused to move any further.

"Eren," Armin sighed.

"Just wait." He said, working his fingers around a frayed piece of his shirt.

"There are more important things right now," Armin coaxed Eren forward anxiously. 

Eren offered no words until he was able to tear away a piece of his shirt. Weakly, he handed it to Armin. "Tie it to that tree over there. That way we'll be able to find our way back here."

Armin wanted to argue, but he knew that would only waste time. Instead, he tied the dirty strip of fabric around a low hanging branch and shuffled back over to Eren's side and continued lugging him back towards his home. 

The bleeding became progressively worse the more he moved, yet Eren stopped five more times, removing tattered strips from his shirt and instructing Armin to tie the frayed pieces onto nearby trees. After a thirty minute journey, Armin finally managed to pull Eren from the woods and into his backdoor where Carla sat in the kitchen, alone and with her morning coffee.

"Well good morning, boys," she smiled, looking over the day's paper. 

"Eren needs to go to the hospital," Armin said without preamble. 

Slowly, Eren's mother placed her coffee cup on the wood grain table. "What?"

"No I don't," Eren shook his head. His hand had returned to cover the wound though blood seeped past his fingers. "I just need a band aid."

"Let me see," she stood from her seat and paced to stand directly in front of Eren, kneeling on one knee. "Let me see it, dear."

Eren scowled and and dropped his hand after hesitating for just a second too long. "I'm fine," he repeated. 

"Armin," Mrs. Jaeger said, averting her gaze from the deep wound, "be a saint and get my purse from the hall closet, okay? We have to take a trip."

Obediently, Armin nodded and nearly tripped over his own feet as he jogged through the house on a mission for retrieval. He heard the distant sounds of Eren arguing with his mother as she dragged him in the direction of the minivan parked in the driveway. 

"I'm fine!" He repeated.

"Get in the van, Eren."

The front door slammed closed behind the pair.

Armin slung the heavy purse over his shoulder and sprinted after them. 

 

Five stitches, one cast, a gnarled scar, and two short visits from Armin's parents later, Eren stood at Armin's front door, knocking feverishly until Armin's grandfather finally pulled it open. Chipped paint dusted the wooden porch at Eren's feet. 

"Hi, Mr. Arlert!" Eren greeted him cheerfully. Braces now caged his teeth, but he still beamed proudly. 

"Well, hello there, Eren," he smiled at the boy on his stoop.

"It's Eren?" Armin called from somewhere in the back of the house.

"It's Eren!" Eren confirmed, standing on his toes to look past the older man's shoulder.

There was a loud clatter that sounded something like dishes falling into a filled sink basin before Armin appeared beneath his grandfather's extended arm. A towel was balled between his hands.

"Mikasa and I are going biking around the park today," Eren said, "it's the first day of Spring, after all."

"It's still 40 degrees," Armin laughed.

"Yes, but it's Spring. You can't get sick in Spring. That's probably illegal."

"Probably," Armin nodded, looking to his grandfather with unspoken pleas in his eyes. 

"Just wear a jacket," His grandfather nodded before stepping back inside the warmth of the Arlert household. 

Armin nodded and ran back inside, allowing the door to close just as he bound up the stairs.

 

It only took a few minutes for Armin to reappear, rounding the house with Eren's jacket draped over his thin frame and guiding a large bike by his side. The seat went well past his hips and the helmet perched on his head tilted forward and covered his eyes with every bounce in his step. He pushed it back into place dutifully every single time. 

Mikasa and Eren watched as he look long strides through his front yard, both of them planted at the end of Armin's long driveway with helmet straps secured around their chins and legs straddling their bike frames. 

"Last one to the park is a sucker," Eren said once Armin had adjusted his own bike to suit his stature. 

"Looks like that's gonna be you, Eren," Mikasa retorted, pushing herself off and pedaling down the steep, gravel road which separated the neighboring houses. 

"You're full of crap!" Eren hollered as he propelled himself forward and stood to pedal at maximum speed. 

Armin pushed off at his leisure, enjoying the show of Mikasa and Eren riding ferociously to the park. After many near spills, the park came into view, hazy in the morning fog. Mikasa won their race by a landslide, though Eren would never admit it.

Unbeknownst to Armin, three kids waited for them at their destination. All of which were Eren's friends from school who Armin tried to avoid at all costs. They all seemed nice enough, but something about large groups made Armin feel uneasy and highly replaceable. He didn't fit in much anyway.

These kids were rowdy and loud, only seeming to cause trouble wherever they went. His grandfather had warned him about people like these, but Armin couldn't just brush them off when Eren was there chatting so animatedly with stars in his eyes. 

Despite the warning alerts going off in his head, Armin tried to seem friendly by waving when skidding to a stop at the base of the hill. He remained firmly rooted to Eren's side.  

"Armin came!" The shorter of the three exclaimed. 

"Shut up, Connie, we can see that." A slightly taller and slightly thinner boy snapped. 

"Dude, chill," The blond one, stocky and wide, interjected before he poked a hand out for Armin to take. 

His firm handshake nearly threw Armin from his bike seat. 

"He's a friend of Eren's so he's a friend of ours," he said with a friendly smile, "I'm Reiner by the way." 

Though he was the mostly outwardly terrifying, Armin found he liked Reiner the best without question. Connie nodded eagerly from behind Reiner before pushing himself forward and thrusting his hand in Armin's direction.

"I'm Connie," he introduced himself before latching onto Armin's hand with both of his and shaking with vigor.  

The other boy sat propped against his bike seat, only opting to watch the display. Taking part in it seemed like the last thing he wanted to.

Mikasa studied him through narrowed slits for eyes. "I'm sure Jean wants to say hi, too," she spoke.

Armin nodded his understanding, but Jean paid him no mind. Rather, he spoke to the group. "Let's ride to the tennis courts," he suggested, "sometimes people leave their shit sitting around. I feel like I could murder all of you in tennis."

"That's because it's a rich kid sport," Eren informed his friend, earning himself a steely glare.

"He's right," Connie nodded, throwing a look at Jean over his shoulder.

Jean shifted his weight between his feet, hands tight on the handlebars of his bike. "Look, I just want to pelt Connie with tennis balls."

"I'm in," Eren said first.

"Me too," Reiner chuckled.

Mikasa rolled her eyes, and Armin related to that single gesture more that he would ever allow the ragtag group of young teenagers know. He followed them when they pushed off in the direction of the courts. 

 

Dirty tennis balls were placed in buckets around all four corners of the court, but no rackets were to be found. 

"It's cool, guys," Connie said, "I read that they used to just play with their hands."

"Who is 'they', Connie?" Jean asked.

"Dude, I don't know. People. They. The all knowing, all seeing they. Shut the hell up," he quipped as he noticed the glances being cast his way, "just go with it."

Eren laughed and scurried off to retrieve his own personal bucket of ammo. "I'm only sharing with you, Arlert. The rest of you can piss off."

Reiner was the next kid to find his own bucket. He was shortly followed by Jean and then a fast thinking Mikasa who perched on her own bucket like a mother hen, leaving only Connie unarmed. 

"Well," Jean said, "since you're the only genius who knows how to play tennis without a racket, this seems about fair."

"I fucking hate you guys," Connie bit before the onslaught of tennis balls were fired upon him. He took the hits like a champion slapping them away with open palms, laughing and screaming, until he devised a new tactic and began scooping up fly balls. He fired them back in the directions his friends stood. A couple knocked Armin in the head. One hit Eren directly in the mouth, busting both his lips against his braces. Blue rubber bands quickly staining themselves black with both blood and flesh.

Eren fought on, only stopping once to spit blood. Reiner took the opportunity to strike him in the arm with a ball thrown fast pitch. Mikasa took the position of Eren's ally in an instant, though, when she chucked a ball that clipped Reiner's ear and bounced off the side of his head, rebounding off the chain-link fence to his right, and hitting him once again. 

Jean openly pointed and laughed at the show, but was cut short when Eren nailed him in the gut and Armin fired his first shot on the boy's upper thigh.

"Hell yeah!" Eren cheered, slapping Armin's back and pulling him into a brief one armed hug.

The war continued until park security was called when a younger kid was thumped with a tennis ball and couldn't be soothed by a frantic Connie chasing after him and telling him to chill out. Rather he only screamed louder and cried harder. 

"Time to go," Jean announced, being the first one to escape the court and bound to his abandoned bike. Connie followed with loud whooping laughter, seizing his rusted bike and disappearing into a maze of trees. Eren dragged Armin at his heels and caught Mikasa by the front of her shirt, pulling them both towards the swinging chain-link door. When Armin fell over his own bike and found himself face first in the dirt, he was almost sure he was going to be left for dead until strong hands found his back and pulled him to his feet by the back of his jacket. 

"Stay on your feet, man!"

"S-Sorry!" Armin called as he threw a leg over his seat and pushed off in the direction where the others had left. 

They'd returned home bloody and bruised with large circular welts pressed into their flesh that lasted for days on end. Though their parents had been massively concerned, the children were convinced they'd had the time of their lives. 

 

In some strange way, pelting boys with tennis balls was Armin's initiation into Eren's really bizarre friend group. The boys he'd grown to fear throughout his first year in Trost slowly became his greatest allies and became something of a comfort to have around.

Reiner eased every situation easily, tking Armin under his wing as if he wasn't new at all. He treated him like family, as if there wasn't a single thing Armin could do to break his affections. Despite being rough on the exterior, Reiner was the human embodiment of a stuffed animal. He was charming and kind. Though he was loud and booming in every word and action, Armin still found that he enjoyed Reiner's company.

Jean was harder to get along with, but as time passed they were able to exchange small remarks. Jean had once told him that the way he hung around Eren all the time was creepy to which Armin had replied with a stunned and confused thank you. 

There was really no good response to that, Armin later figured. 

Connie was something else entirely. Connie Springer adopted Armin into his brotherhood with or without the others on board. Within their first few weeks of meeting, they'd already exchanged MSN screen names and home phone numbers.

With time, Armin was completely at ease in his ragtag group of friends. They were a patchwork bunch with little in common, but they worked. They played well off of one another. They balanced each other out.

They were good for one another.

In the summer they visited the local ice cream parlor three days every week. Reiner would tell them about football practice and how Freshman year of high school was going to set him up for his future. Connie would explain that his sisters were driving him insane, and Eren would never failed to agree before Mikasa would knock him out of the booth.

Jean would generally sit quietly, only laughing when Mikasa would say something; otherwise, he seemed completely disinterested in anything but his rapidly melting cup of vanilla that he never actually ate. Rather, he would watch it form a small pool which his rainbow sprinkles bathed in. 

Armin would smile at him occasionally, and he would nod in return. Armin felt accepted. He felt loved completely and entirely, like all the little holes he'd had before moving had been filled and were now overflowing. He was happy.

 

Of course, spending time with their group was great, but Armin would always prefer spending time with just Eren in their small patch in the woods. Their sleepovers never stopped. If anything, they increased in number. Under normal circumstances, Armin spent more time at the Jaeger house and at his own. The only force in the world that was capable of stopping the flow of normalcy that was sleepovers with Mikasa and Eren was Armin's parents.

Sometimes, they would return from far off places with stories and gifts, and Armin wouldn't return outside for day. When Eren would ask what they did, Armin would only shrug and say "we had family time."

Eren accepted this as a good enough answer, though he was baffled by it. His family was nice, but the Jaegers never needed bonding time. They never wanted it, either. 

Visits to the clearing in the woods were a daily occurrence. It was shortly christened as their kingdom, and their flag was raised to claim it as their own. The shredded shirt Eren had worn when he'd broken his arm was tied to the giant limb he'd used for their sword fight. It had taken both boys hours to dig a hole deep enough to support their natural flagpole, but with much determination, they'd made it work. 

They spent their days shaded from the sun in the heart of the woods, building castles for bugs out of leaves and clovers with added wildflowers for decoration. Occasionally, Eren would run back home to retrieve snacks and they would lay in the patchy grass staring at the clouds.  

"That one looks like you," Eren said on a late August afternoon when they'd both returned home from watching Reiner at football practice. He'd begged them all to attend, but only Eren, Armin, and Mikasa had shown up. He beamed nonetheless when he noticed their presence. That smile lasted the entire two hour practice, not even fading when he was shoved to the ground and subsequently nearly dislocated a shoulder. 

"No it doesn't," Armin laughed, gaze following Eren's finger pointed into the sky. "It looks like a lump."

Eren huffed. "Well its the prettiest lump up there," he said defensively.

"Why can't you be the pretty lump cloud?" Armin asked, nudging the other boy's foot with his own.

"It's too pretty to be me. I'm, like, made of dirt and bugs and sweat. And you're like... like a flower. But a person. A person flower."

"I'm pretty sure flowers need bugs and dirt, too."

Eren cracked a smile. "Yeah, yeah I guess you're right. Maybe that just means we need each other." Eren nudged Armin with the point of his elbow, digging into Armin's side just a bit too hard. 

Armin made a pained noise but laughed through it. "Yeah, maybe."

 

If anyone had expected the group of six to drift apart when school was reintroduced, they would be completely wrong. Mikasa and Reiner started high school the year Connie, Jean, Armin, and Eren began the eighth grade. When the month of October rolled around and homework was becoming increasingly difficult, Armin found that he had never been more popular.

Never once had he been the go to for anyone when they were struggling, but as the group discovered that Armin was a golden student he was flooded by pleas for help.

Every Wednesday and Friday afternoon, their shortened group of four would gather around the Arlert dining table while Armin would teach problem after problem until little by little the group caught onto those concepts. 

Armin was determined and impossible to anger. No matter how many times Connie interrupted or repeated the phrase "this is im _possible_ ", Armin would keep his dogged determination and continue in his constant lecturing until something would click and a brightness would flood Connie's otherwise vacant hazel eyes.

"You are literally Jesus," Connie said as he slammed his math book closed. They'd studied for three hours, and Eren's back cracked loudly when he arched over his chair. "You are saving the masses. More importantly, you're saving my grades, dude. I would kiss you if it wasn't gay."

Armin gave a dry laugh. "Glad I could help," he offered paired with a meek wave when Connie pushed past him and out the front door. 

"I'd be careful around him," Jean said, slapping Armin's upper back, "he might actually do it."

Armin nodded. "I know."

Eren only laughed and cast Armin a sidelong glance as he shut the front door. 

"Hey, wanna go watch the game? The Cowboys are playing and I wanna watch them lose," Eren said, not waiting for Armin's response as he took the stairs two at a time.

"You know they aren't going to," Armin said kindly, ascending up the stairwell in his own time. 

"I can  _dream_ ," Eren called, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

"You can also have your dreams crushed."

 

The room they stayed in currently was meant to be a guest bedroom, but because they never had guests or needed the extra room, it had been converted into an extra television room with a 40" box TV, and an over sized entertainment center that left room for only one bench seat.

The couch that had been placed in the room smelled like cheese no matter how many times his grandfather washed the fabric.

Armin lazed across it anyway, being sure to keep his face away from the patterned cloth for fear of his own health.

 

"I don't understand this game at all," Armin admitted once they were three quarters in, nudging Eren's thigh with his toes.

"You understand math and science and school in general, but you don't understand men throwing each other to the ground and running a ball back and forth?"

Armin shook his head. "I feel like there's a lot more to it than that."

"Only a little bit, though. Nothing confusing."

"Maybe science is to me what football is to you," Armin said, "I spent a lot of days reading my grandpa's books. He was a doctor way back when and that's all I had when I stayed here while my parents were away." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's what I know"

"I spent a lot of days pushing people down and running from teachers." Eren paused with a smile playing on his lips. "And my mother. Those teachers had nothing on mom."

"I am a fan of her ability to manhandle you," Armin admitted, "Mikasa does it too."

"Mikasa took some kind of super serum in the womb. She isn't natural."

"Speaking of Mikasa," Armin said, "don't you think she'll be kind of worried about you about right now? You're normally home by now."

The clock on the corner of the television screen read 9:57 pm. Eren only shrugged. "She made a friend at school, somehow. So she has a girl over," Eren wrinkled his nose, "I don't like her."

"What's she like?" Armin asked. 

"Mean," Eren replied quickly. "Blonde and mean."

"Blonde and mean," Armin repeated. "We're almost twins in that case."

"Yeah, almost. You just need a new nose."

"I'll work on that," Armin promised.

"Cool. You'll only have to break it like five or eight times."

Armin shoved Eren's leg with his bare feet, pinning them against the arm of the sofa. "Be nice," he chided.

"Yes, mother," Eren said before falling silent as the last quarter of the game returned. 

 

"There is one thing I do understand about football though," Armin said offhandedly, but still catching Eren's attention.

"Oh yeah?" He asked. "What's that?"

Armin hummed, watching as the opposing team fumbled yet again. "The Cowboys are creaming these other losers."

Eren looked completely dumbfounded, green eyes wide and jaw unhinged in dramatic disbelief before he lunged across the sofa and pinned Armin down by his wrists.

"You take that back," he instructed.

"The scoreboard doesn't lie," Armin giggled, cheeks becoming flushed in the proximity of Eren's face to his. His hot breath tickled Armin's face and sent chills shooting down his spine. 

One of his wrists was freed only to have Eren hand smash his face into the cheese-stinking cloth. 

"Quit!" Armin squealed, flailing in the limited space.

"Say the Cowboys suck," Eren laughed, hair mussed and falling in his face.

" _You_ suck," Armin squirmed, "Eren it smells worse than it did before. Oh my God."

"Divine justice," Eren retorted, removing his hand to allow Armin fresh air. 

"We can't be friends," Armin muttered, reclining his head on his armrest.

"It's begun," the shifty smile Eren wore grew in size, "you're blonde and mean and I'm pretty sure I made your nose more crooked just now. You're becoming Annie Leonhardt."

Armin huffed and rubbed his nose. 

 

That winter, it snowed for days on end. Streets were lethal, every inch of grass was covered in piles of white powder, and school was cancelled for weeks.

On the second day of missed school, Mikasa and Eren could be found pounding on Armin's front door at 8 in the morning. Sleepy and in a daze, Armin barely pulled the door open to reveal his friends bundled in heavy clothes. Mikasa wore a thick red scarf wrapped around her neck and half of her face. 

"We're going sledding," she said, voice muffled past the fabric.

Armin tilted his head, sleep still fogging his mind. "Okay."

"You're going with us," Eren added.

There was a long pause as Armin's eyes grazed the icy streets. "I've never done that."

"That changes today," Mikasa shrugged while Eren nodded furiously over her shoulder. 

Armin took a stupidly long time piling clothes onto his person. Four pairs of pants, three shirts, three jackets, mittens and a snow hat later, Armin waddled out the front door. Descending the porch steps had never been more difficult, but the neighbors waited patiently for him at the top of the road, holding what looked to be a trashcan lid.

"Why do you have that?" Armin asked while wiping blowing snow from his face. 

"We sit on it to sled down the hill," Mikasa explained, setting it down with care to assure it wouldn't move without one of them on it.

"Ew," Armin laughed.

"It's totally worth the butt germs, dude." Eren said in his own version of being comforting.

Armin sniffled and rubbed at his nose. "You can never be too weary of butt germs."

" _Anyway,_ " Mikasa shot a look at Eren. He only smirked. "You just sit on this and we'll push you down the hill. You have to hold on, though."

"Is this safe?"

"Probably not," the siblings answered in unison as Mikasa took her place on the garbage can lid. Eren grabbed Armin by the arm and pulled him back several yards before assuming a runner's stance. Armin followed suit and on the count of three, the both shot forward, using all of their combined strength to shove Mikasa down the slick hill. Armin fell flat on his stomach, but shuffled onto his knees immediately at the sound of the shrill screaming echoing through empty space. The makeshift sled spun quickly circles and went air born a few times during the trip down.

During the middle of the ride, Mikasa's hat fell away and her hair streamed in the wind, caught in the rippling waves that made the tails of her scarf whip about violently. 

"Whoa," Armin whispered, hands resting on his knees as he watched in awe.

"Oh, yeah," Eren nodded from above, hand acting as a visor above his eyes as he watched his sister near the end of their street. "You're next."

 

The snow melted away completely by the end of February, leaving the earth sopping wet and the kids just as sad as ever when they were forced to return to school. Though other testimonies disagreed with his own, Armin could've sworn that the tail end of his eighth grade year literally flew past.

Connie continued to go to him for tutoring just as Jean continued to mock them both, telling them to just date already. And he and Eren continued to live together for all intents and purposes as Armin only ever returned home to retrieve clothes and confirm that his grandfather was getting along well without him.

Life was good. Actually, it was beyond good. It was great. Armin almost swore it was perfect. 

He found that if life never changed, he would be completely happy with where he was.

But, change, of course, was inevitable. And once the summer of 2001 ended, the reality of change made itself known. From what he understood, Freshman year of high school was kind to no one, but for some reason, he couldn't help but believe it was especially unkind to him. 

High school sucked, and Freshman year was only the catalyst. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freshman year of high school is never a fun year, but it's especially not fun for Armin.  
> Bullies, new friendships, and a fight lead up to the most startling revelation of his high school experience thus far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEARLY A MONTH LATER AND I GOT THE CHAPTER DONE.  
> HECK YEAH.  
> I'm really sorry for the delay. It's the holidays and I work at Walmart. There is no rest for the wicked.  
> Another update: I track the tags "fic: yours truly" and "thebohemianao3" on tumblr started right now.  
> ALSO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE note that tags have changed. Be warned for minor violence and the use of homophobic and transphobic slurs.
> 
> As always, you can find me at satelliitestars.tumblr.com  
> I hope you guys like this chapter! And thank you for your support!

Maria High could be described in a plethora of ways using every adjective under the sun. 

Terrifying was a suitable descriptor, closely followed by loud, smelly, intimidating, and hellish. Those were all perfectly accurate in their own ways, but the word Armin preferred over all others was far more simple. Maria High School was  _big_.  It was massive, actually, but not in the traditional sense. 

The school in itself was actually quite small. Just a simple smattering of four buildings scattered haphazardly atop the biggest hill in the heart of town, rural as it was. The sheer size of the school was to be found in its population.

Three separate middle schools combined graduating classes to create a single, painstakingly large freshman class. Eren was in love with the idea. Armin, though, failed to share in his enthusiasm. 

"This is so great!" Eren exclaimed, dragging Armin by the wrist through an intersection which clearly stated that it was not, in fact, their turn to cross the street. 

Eren laughed through the blaring sound of a car horn when they darted across the bustling road. Stunned, Armin only managed to hiss his name. 

Once they'd safely laid foot on the next strip of sidewalk, Armin released a large breath that had remained caught in his lungs. "This  _isn't_ great."

"It is, though," Eren laughed, extending his arms in the air, fingers splayed wide. "We're in high school, man. We're like... we're adults."

"We aren't adults," Armin said evenly. "And we aren't in high school. This is just orientation, Eren."

Eren's mouth fell at the corners. "Fine, Mr. I'm-So-Smart," he cleared his throat forcefully, "this is so great. We'll be high schoolers in five days. Better?"

"Still doesn't make us adults," Armin sighed, widening his strides to catch up to Eren's side. 

When they matched one another step for step, Eren only opted to jab him in the side. "You always have to shoot me down," he smirked as he tucked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans. "Seriously, though, how can you  _not_ think this is awesome?"

The school encroached the edge of Armin's vision and a queasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. It waited for him patiently like an animal of prey preparing for the fatal strike. Suddenly, he felt off balance. With lungs constricted painfully, a shrug was all Armin had to offer as they stopped at the base of the hill. 

Eren didn't wait for a reply, rather he linked elbows with Armin and dragged him a through the schoolyard and to the front doors which stood wide open, welcoming in new students.

Armin allowed himself to be dragged into the mouth of the beast. 

 

Two hours had never passed more slowly as Eren hauled him through an endless maze of halls. Teachers greeted them and new students offered smiles and waves, yet Armin couldn't quite come to peace with the place or its people. The walls were too cramped, the lighting too dim, and it wreaked of sweat inside its confines. 

Despite the smiles offered their way, Armin could see through the fake offering. Too many teeth showed past tight lips. Their eyes were too vacant to hold actual glee. 

Armin, despite himself, tried to offer some semblance of a smile back. His stomach did somersaults as he was blindly guided through the body of students. Eren never relented his grip on Armin's wrist though the press of his fingertips was becoming painful. Armin told himself he didn't mind; he was always stronger with Eren there to push him forward, so, he kept going. 

By the end of their trip, they'd both received an over sized manila envelope containing flyers for school clubs and trips, informational brochures with highlighted bits about dress codes and attendance policies, and then, the most dreaded sheet of all, a class schedule. 

As they left the school, both boys sifted through their stacks of paper before finally coming across their schedules when they reached the base of the hill. 

"Okay," Eren said, holding his envelope in a death grip. It wrinkled under the pressure of his hands. "On the count of three, we'll see how many classes we got together."

Armin nodded. He wanted to be optimistic and believe that fate would be kind. The clamminess in his hands and the sickness in his gut gave his hopelessness away.

" _One,_ " Eren counted. His energy was radiant. Armin could feel it from where he stood, though it didn't effect him. He wanted just a portion of the excitement that wracked Eren to the very core.

" _Two_ ," he dragged out the word at the end, an excited smile pulled at the edges of his mouth.

"THREE," he screamed, startling an elderly woman across the street. Eren didn't notice as he tore the schedule from its resting place. The sheet ripped in his eagerness to be first. 

Armin sullenly removed the page with agitating slowness. 

"Come on, man," Eren laughed, reaching past Armin. Tanned fingers clamped onto the top of Armin's schedule and tore it from his grasp. Eren turned his back to Armin, hunched over both schedules as he studied them with silent intensity. When his shoulders sagged, Armin felt himself deflate. 

As he turned to face his friend, Eren's unruly eyebrows were knit together. He gave a limp half shrug. "Bummer," was all he muttered when he handed both of the pages over.

Hesitantly, Armin took them, already knowing he wouldn't like what he was going to see.

He didn't. At all.

They weren't in a single class together. They weren't even spared in homeroom; in fact, their homerooms were in two completely separate buildings. 

Even their lunch times couldn't have been more different as Armin was granted first lunch period at 11:45, while Eren was punished with the final lunch period an hour and five minutes later. 

"It could be worse, right?" Eren asked, resuming his walking pace back towards their homes on Shiganshina Avenue. 

Armin didn't quite see how, but he nodded anyway.

"Yeah," Eren pondered, speaking more to himself than to his friend, "I mean, we could be going to different schools. And, uh, we'll have lots of different stories to tell. We can meets lots of different hot girls and tell each other about them," Eren nodded confidently. "And, not to mention, we don't know if Connie and Jean will be in our classes. Hell, Reiner probably failed the ninth grade. I bet you he'll be in at least one freshman class." Humming, Eren kicked a small pebble. It skidded along the ground in small bounces before slipping from the pavement and falling to its untimely death through a sewer grate. " _And_ ," Eren continued, "you're super smart. I bet you'll get in a class with Mikasa again. Or you'll get stuck with Annie. It's a gamble being smart."

"Right," Armin nodded clinging to Eren's optimistic words as if they were life itself. In the bleakest of times, Eren wanted nothing more than to act as hope, and Armin refused to let his efforts go to waste despite the paranoia hanging over him like a thunder cloud. 

"It'll be fine," Eren continued in an attempt to sooth them both, though he seemed perfectly well. Armin appreciated his efforts more than he could say without being dramatic. Knowing Eren, he would've only brushed it off anyway. "Besides, maybe next semester we'll be stuck with each other in _every_ class."

"The horror," Armin gasped.

Eren laughed and shoved his hands forcefully into the pockets of his jeans. "Right?"

Eren's thought process didn't quite sooth Armin's raging nerves, but he contained it well.

"Everything'll be okay," Armin finally said. He sounded confident, but it was nothing more than a straight-faced lie. 

"I told you."

"Yeah."

 

The final days of summer vacation were vibrant ones. 

The sun peaked through fluffy clouds as the boys trekked through the woods, toting along Carla Jaeger's video camera to record their adventures.

"We're like survival experts," Eren said, kicking through patchy bunches of dead leaves.

In the blistering heart, Armin would use his hand as a visor. "I don't think we're experts," he confessed, stumbling over a root to punctuate his sentence.

Eren spun on his heels with a hand extended to pull Armin back to his feet just as he'd done hundred of times before. "Okay, we're more like masters. That's close to being an expert, though."

Ratty pieces of fabric still hung on tree branches leading to the spot where the trees thinned and the remains of Eren's old t-shirt still billowed proudly in the breeze, marking their territory. 

Wildflowers had blossomed over the course of the summer and the plush grass there was littered with bursts of color. Butterflies hovered just above untrimmed blades of grass and birds sang high in the tree tops.

"Okay, Armin," Eren instructed from the middle of the field with two sticks in his hands, "first things first, you have to film me making a fire."

"It's like a hundred degrees out," Armin laughed as he narrowed the camera's view field to focus on Eren alone. "I don't think we're at risk of freezing."

"Those are minor details, are you recording?"

Armin nodded and the camera shook.

"Cool," Eren said, "now watch this."

Armin watched. And he watched. And he watched, until the camera battery died and Eren was laid flat out in the field, cheat heaving and splintered hands splayed wide open. 

No fire was to be seen.

"You'll get it next time," Armin said with an encouraging smile. "I think I saw smoke on that last try!"

"Yeah," Eren smiled at the darkening sky, "next time for sure."

 

The final day of summer vacation brought rain in sheets, leaving Armin, Eren and Mikasa barricaded inside for the day.

They'd played board games and watched bad romcoms while Eren complained the entire way through them.

The day passed uneventfully and by the evening Eren had locked Mikasa out of his bedroom and opted for playing mind numbing first person shooter video games.

They were his favorite. 

Multiple times he'd offered Armin a controller, but each time he passed on the opportunity, perfectly content in watching the action. 

Armin tried to feel at peace. No amount of sulking would bring back days of sledding down hills and fleeing from park security for a game of tennis gone terribly wrong. Still, this hollowness had settled in his gut. This unknown dark feeling perched in the workings of his soul without reason. Without a name.

It only sat and festered, but vanished immediately whenever Eren would prop his head against Armin's knees or ruffle his hair when he'd just won an impossible battle. Those touches were home. They were safety.

Armin was terrified he would lose them once high school began. He wasn't worried about the classes. He wasn't worried about the new environment or teachers. In fact, the only thing that had the ability to bother him was the threat of losing Eren to new students. 

Eren was honest energy. He was likable despite his rough edges.

He was warmth on bleak winter day. He was the friend that everyone deserved, but Armin wanted to greedily claim. 

Of course he was worried over high school, but he knew it was for all the wrong reasons.

He remembered being young and praying for Eren to be with him forever, so, that night, before the first day of school began, he prayed that same prayer again and again until he couldn't fight sleep away any longer. He whispered his pleas to any God willing to lend an ear to his cause, praying until his tongue went numb and his head pounded.

He didn't mind the loss of sleep.  

 

Somehow, Armin allowed himself to be convinced to walk to school. Eren charmed him into it by completely disregarding Armin's very legitimate fear of being hit by a car due to his friend's inability to read traffic signs. In the end, Eren won every argument, every time. 

They walked slowly, mostly due to Armin's snail pace, but Eren didn't mention it. He kept stride easily and talked about offhand nothings without acknowledging Armin's utter silence. 

"You know, I looked at Mikasa's schedule, she left it in the kitchen," he explained, "and I'm pretty sure that you guys are in the same math class again," Eren said, ramming Armin's shoulder with his own. "I myself am a proud member of the dumb kid classes."

Armin laughed weakly and shook his head. 

"I'll probably need tutoring this year." Eren hid his hands in the pockets of his over-sized sweatshirt, "again," he added. "If you're up for it, I mean."

"Yeah," Armin nodded, battling the sickness that twisted in his stomach.

"Awesome. I wish I had a brain like yours, dude."

Armin's slow treading ceased when they reached the base of the school yard; the sloping hill that led to the main building suddenly looking like Mount Everest. Forgetting how to breathe seemed like a real option until Eren's hands gripped his upper arms and forced him to turn. Eren was bright and cheerful and extremely good at cheering people up without being obvious about it, but in desperate times, he knew when to be serious and frank.

The sincere Eren was a force valiant and true enough to end wars and spark world peace.

Eren was good.

In their years together, Eren had grown to be much taller than Armin, but now, he stooped and looked Armin dead in the eye. Their noses were aligned and nearly touched. People walking past them coughed awkwardly, but Eren either didn't notice or didn't care. 

Wide green eyes caught the morning sun perfectly. Armin couldn't begin to put a name to every color in those determined eyes.

When Eren squeezed his arms tighter, Armin refocused.

"I know you're worried, Armin. And don't give me that 'I'm fine' bullshit because we both know that isn't true. I may not be smart, but I can read you like a fucking book. It's gonna be a good day, and if anyone ruins that, you just tell me. You have friends. Probably more friends than they do." Eren gave a confident smirk, "I mean imagine their surprise when one day they're picking on you, and the next they're greeted by Reiner and me. They don't wanna mess that that."

His chest rose visibly as he took in air greedily, having spoken his entire tirade without a single break. 

Armin, despite every cell in his being telling him not to, laughed. 

"I feel like they'd be a little more intimidated by Reiner," Armin raked a hand through freshly washed blonde locks, still damp to the touch. 

Eren laughed.

"Not for long. They hurt you, and they can be damn sure I'll hurt them." Eren smiled until Armin subconsciously smiled back. "You kick some ass today. I expect a five page essay on why today was the best day of your life and it's due this weekend, alright? I want you to brag about the cool people you meet and the shitty teachers you have. Promise me?"

Armin, lacking words, only nodded. Eren's hands fell away from his arms, but the contact wasn't lost when their hands connected.

They hiked up the hill with slow trepidation. A pink blush dusted the apples of Armin's cheeks while Eren looked as determined as ever, challenging anyone who stared just a second too long.

Eren was a protector in every sense. 

 

"I'll meet you here at 3:15 on the dot," Eren instructed, pointer finger directed at the soggy earth.

"You bet," Armin said more strongly than he felt. 

"It's gonna be a good day!" Eren called and gave an unwavering thumbs up as he backpedaled into a sea of strangers. With Eren's pep talk in mind, Armin forced himself to do the same.

 

Eren had been right. For the first half of the day, school had actually been pleasant.

He'd gotten lost three times trying to find his first period building, and then again once he was actually inside, but aside from that there had been no notable hiccups.

English class come right after lunch, though, and with it came a steep downhill curve. 

"I don't mind if you call me Petra," Ms. Ral said from the front of the classroom, yellow sundress brushing her knees as she paced. "Call me anything you like, actually, just be sure it's nothing rude or I can assure you that you won't like the consequences." Her sweet smile did nothing to hide the sincerity of her threat. Armin nodded feverishly to show he fully understood. "Now," she continued, completely undeterred, "in the spirit of the big first day of high school, we're going to have a little get to know you exercise."

Half of the class groaned; Armin wanted to join in their choir.

"That's the spirit," she gave a music box laugh, "English is based in communication, and we can't have good communication if we don't talk to or know each other, right?"

Only a few murmurs in the back of the classroom answered her question with a slurred "yes."

"Exactly. I want you to partner up and get to know the basics about each other in ten minutes. At the end of the ten minutes, we'll take turns telling the class about our partners. Understood?"

The same few groaners from the back offered another pathetic "yes," and Ms. Ral nodded. Auburn hair fell across her face and stuck to the gloss on her lips. 

"I'm fond of the enthusiasm," she linked her hands behind her back and leaned forward onto the balls of her feet, looking over the sea of students. "I believe there will be an odd number of students as one of you is missing, so, if any student is left without a partner, I'll be more than glad to buddy up with my straggler. Pair up."

Desk chairs scraped loudly against grimy linoleum as students shuffled around one another to try and find appealing partners. Armin stayed glued to his spot in hopes that he may be the one remaining student. Fate had another idea in mind, though, when a large, calloused hand landed on his shoulder with enough pressure to bruise at the dirty fingertips.

"Hi partner," the stranger's voice said. His voice was throaty and muddled.

Armin allowed his shoulders to sag and he offered a meek hello before being tugged to the back corner of the classroom where the mass of students was slimmer. 

The boy that had chosen Armin was nothing spectacular to look at with greasy bangs plastered to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat. His face was closer to red than it was white, breathing labored. The sweatshirt he wore was torn and tanned with dirt ,though the fabric was clearly meant to be white. Armin only nodded once they'd settled and made awkward eye contact. 

Neither of them said anything for extended seconds. 

"I-" Armin tried in an attempt to break the silence, "I'm Armin? Arlert?"

The boy scoffed. "That's a stupid name. I've ever heard it before."

Armin nodded slowly and allowed his head to hang, flushed face hidden behind his bangs. 

"You look like a fucking girl, but you sound like a boy. What are you supposed to be? That's the only reason I chose you, by the way, I thought you were a girl."

"It's a boy name," Armin bit, "because that's what I am."

"Could've fooled me."

"Okay."

The silence fell again.

"Well, what's your name?" Armin asked with barely concealed irritation.

"Robert. Friends call me Bobby, though," he laughed and belched in the same breath. Armin pinched the bridge of his nose. "What's wrong with you?" Bobby asked as he noticed Armin's gesture, "don't like me or something, he-she?"

Armin, opting for avoiding words, tucked his hair behind his ear and pretended that the question was never asked. 

"What are your hobbies?" Armin asked.

"What do you care?"

"I just need to know for when we talk in front of the class. I don't personally care," Armin felt his blood warm beneath his skin. Eren would hate this boy.

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, sure. I like to shoot. And fish. What do you do? Knit?"

"No," Armin replied evenly, "I garden with my grandfather and ride bikes with friends, though."

"You ever considered cutting your hair?"

Eyebrows furrowed, Armin shook his head. "I like my hair."

"You need a boy haircut. Bet your parents don't like it."

Armin stiffened, wide eyes drilling holes into the desk he refused to look away from. "I wouldn't know," Armin muttered.

"Well, I do know," Bobby shrugged, "these are just the facts. I'm trying to make you better for everyone's sake."

"Okay."

 The other boy gave a disgustingly loud laugh and slapped Armin on the back. "I'm gonna make you a better person. Since we're friends now and all that bullshit."

Luckily, he was cut off when Ms. Ral stood in front of the class and announced that it was time to begin introductions.

The wait for the bell was an uneasy one, and Armin couldn't flee fast enough once it sounded.

 

The last class of the day was the one Armin had tried to look forward to the most. Natural Science. 

Science was easy. Science made sense. 

Thankfully, this group of students looked far less threatening than any other class he'd been a part of, and the teacher looked like she'd gone mad with her wild ponytail and colorfully stained lab coat. 

"Look at my beautiful students!" She praised, hands clasped in front of her chest with a wide grin. "This is going to be a  _great_  semester. Do we agree?"

It was hard not to feel her enthusiasm. It dripped from her words and hung in the air. Class pets lined the farthest wall to the right and beakers filled with colored water sat atop her white board. Each one was filled to a different capacity. Armin nodded in agreement to her question.

"Today we're going over the boring stuff. You know. Rules. Safety. All that stuff that no one will remember in two weeks. But rules are rules," she shrugged, "next class, though, we're doing a lab."

She gave a bright thumbs up with a toothy smile. Her brown eyes were blown wide past the magnification in her glasses turned goggles. 

"My name is Hanji Zoe, and this is going to be an adventure. Let's begin."

 

Eren was true to his word. He stood in the exact spot they'd split ways from seven hours previous and his hands were wrapped securely around his backpack straps, eyes wandering over the crowd pushing past him. Armin breathed a sigh of relief at the very sight of him. Home. Safety. His best friend.

"Eren!" Armin screamed through the sea of students rushing to crowd the buses and student parking lots. 

Eren perked up like a small dog at the sound of his name, head snapping up on red alert. Armin imagined that if he had a tail, it would be swishing at lethal speeds. "Armin!" Eren screamed, shoving his way through blots of people using his elbows. The hug Eren wrapped him in was crushing and yanked all the oxygen from his lungs. "Tell me it was a good day for you, too," Eren requested. Hope gleamed in his rounded eyes.

Armin couldn't find it in himself to tell Eren the truth. Though all he could think of was the horror of Ms. Ral's English class, he nodded.

He couldn't lie to himself. It had, in fact, been a good day. English class could have been better, but Armin was sure he could move across the room easily and never see Bobby's pudgy face again.

Simple problem, simple solution.

"Yeah!" Armin smiled, "it was good. Turns out you were right." 

Eren laughed and hooked an arm around Armin's shoulders as he guided them back home. "Of course I was right. Seriously though, I was worried about you all day, man. Jean's in one of my classes. And then there's this girl named Sasha. Super pretty, and she brings snacks, so I'm making it a goal to be friends with her. I think Jean might have a thing for her," Eren snorted, "what a loser."

"Always the ladies man," Armin said, watching their feet as they walked in unison.

Eren's laugh wracked his entire body. "He can dream, I guess."

 

They walked quietly, only occasionally bumping into one another to try and confirm that the other was still there.

"Hey, you got any homework tonight?" Eren asked when they had reached the end of the Avenue where their homes faced one another. The last of the summer heat was making itself known on the late August afternoon. Armin's shirt stuck to his back and Eren's hair was wildly mussed from where he'd tried, and failed, multiple times to push it from the sweat on his face. 

"No," Armin smiled. It almost felt like summer, and the school day felt far behind him now. 

"Good!" Eren cheered, taking Armin by the forearm and dragging him, without prelude, through the Jaeger's front lawn. "That means you get to watch me kick some ass in Medal of Honor. I'm already done with this school shit."

That was the most appealing offer Armin had heard all day. 

He nodded immediately. "Same."

 

Though it was unintentional, Armin stayed with Eren until the clock read two in the morning and both boys were laid across one another lazily, Armin propped against the headboard while Eren draped himself across Armin's lap and allowed his head to fall over the side. Neither of them had much of a clue as to what suitable personal space was, and it was perfect that way.

"I need to go home," Armin muttered, rubbing at his eyes with the backs of his hands.

Eren pouted and raised his head just far enough to make eye contact. "Why? Just sleep here," he fell back into his lazy position. 

Armin huffed and picked at the lint that had balled up on Eren's coverlet. 

"Don't you," Eren imitated Armin's annoyed huff, "me. You might get kidnapped or something if you walk home now."

"Eren, you can watch me from your window or something."

"No, dude, that's creepy," Eren's smile was clear in his voice. "Seriously, I'll turn my game off and you can stay here. I'm losing anyway. Promise I won't be loud and annoying."

"You're never loud or annoying."

Eren raised an eyebrow as he rolled off the bed and landed with a thud on the floor.

"Okay," Armin amended, "you're never annoying."

Laughing, Eren nodded appreciatively. "I'll take it."

Eren stripped himself of his shirt. Armin puffed the pillows and pulled back the blankets. It was a ritual by now after three years of the same pattern. But, as time passed, situations changed. Both boys had grown and somehow Eren's bed and shrunken along the way.

Only Armin seemed to be hyper-aware of it, though, as Eren crammed himself into his limited space without issue. Eren didn't know the meaning of boundaries, and Armin, though he wanted to, couldn't find the words to complain about Eren's groin being smashed against his backside.

Naturally, Eren fell asleep almost instantaneously and without thought. Armin, on the other hand, lay awake for hours, staring blankly at the nearest wall and Eren's flashing alarm clock. It was a glaring red in the pitch darkness. 

As time ticked by, Armin counted down the hours until they would be locked in school yet again, only day two out of 180. But, more importantly, he added up the time until school would be over and he would find himself back in Eren's bedroom, laughing his night away as Eren cursed at his TV and Mikasa banged on the wall threatening him if he didn't keep it down.  

His own house was too quiet to be happy, and he much preferred the sounds of sibling rivalry. 

 

Every day passed just like the one before, except Bobby gained a posse and Eren had gained new friends of his own.

The girl with the snacks was named Sasha as it turned out, and she was life itself. She was warm and full of wonder. An endless talker.

She could make those with even the hardest hearts melt with laughter.

She was the definition of the word good. 

 

He'd also managed to attract another girl who went by Ymir. Unlike Sasha, she scared Armin to the core.

She was impassable, unmovable, stern, and quick witted with a double edged sword for a tongue. 

She held her own, and for that she was respectable, but... scary. Still scary.

 

As more people tacked themselves onto Eren's group of friends, Armin found that he wanted to back away, but Eren wouldn't let him. Every time Eren would meet someone new, Armin would somehow be dragged into the mix following the introduction of "I'm really not that great, but have you met my best friend?"

As a direct result, Armin's social circle grew. Quality time spent alone with Eren in his stuffy bedroom or damp basement was slim, and as fall turned to winter, visiting the woods became harder to do regularly. Eren made sure to keep Armin included constantly, though.

If Jean wanted to go bowling, Eren dragged Armin along. When Sasha talked about the new movie she'd seen previewed on TV, Eren would ask Armin if he wanted to see it. They shared blankets at Reiner's football games, and shared their own stolen bowl of chips at every one of Connie's terrible parties.

It seemed that there was no force strong enough to drive a wedge between them, and it was a revelation that was much needed in dark times when he sat alone in his bedroom with only the sound of grandfather's oxygen tank humming through the void of the night. 

 

Sometimes, he wanted to convince himself that high school was going perfectly well, and as far as Eren knew, not a single thing was going poorly for Armin. He made sure to ask every week if Armin was okay. He would ask if he needed to kick anyone's ass this week, and Armin would always give the same eye roll with a dramatic sigh and a "no, Eren."

Truth be told, his bullying situation had only escalated. As it became clear that Armin wasn't going to confront any teachers about the slurs he was called or the paper balls thrown his way, actions became increasingly hard to swallow.

"You considered that haircut yet?" Bobby asked from behind Armin's desk with his lips pressed dangerously close to Armin's ear.

Armin shook his head.

"Shame," came the reply closely followed by the sound of scissors sheering off a large lock of hair that fell to the floor in strands. Armin didn't blink, didn't move, and certainly didn't breathe. "You're welcome. Now you look like less of a tranny."

 

On several occasions, gum had been planted in his seat. He'd been called gay and a faggot more times than he cared to remember. His hair had been pulled, he been shoved against lockers in the hallways and nearly pushed down a flight of stairs on a particularly bad day, but despite it all, Armin kept it hidden well.

Eren didn't have to know.

He didn't need to know.

Armin could be his own hero, he was sure of it.

He didn't need to be saved.

Eren had saved him enough times that it was a blessing he wasn't keeping score. 

 

"Hey Armin," Bobby hissed from behind on an especially dreary Wednesday. Rain pelted the windows in silver sheets and painted the entire city a depressing shade darker. Hazy clouds hung low in the air. 

Armin ignored him.

"What? Are you fucking deaf?" 

Something thudded against the back of his head and fell to the floor. Giggles erupted along the back row from kids who'd witnessed the paper ball being thrown. 

"No," Armin said under his breath. "No, I'm not."

"Well, then turn around when your friends are trying to talk to you. Don't you have any manners?"

Begrudgingly, Armin barely turned in his seat. The grip on his pencil had turned his knuckles white.

"Your friends ditched ya, huh? I never see you around that one guy anymore. You know the one. The one that always yells all time and looks like a fucking mutt."

"We're still friends," Armin bit.

"Really? Are you sure? I think I talk to you more than he does," Bobby prodded.

"That's not true."

"Then why hasn't he come to save his princess yet? He doesn't care about you. I care more," he smiled. 

"Boys," Ms. Ral called from the front of the room, "don't talk while we're working, or else I'll have you memorize Shakespearean love sonnets to recite for one another other in front of the class for a test grade. Got it?"

Armin swung back in his seat.

"That's gay," Bobby grumbled, and his friends joined in harmonious agreement. "Ain't that right, Arlert?"

There was a powerful kick to the back of Armin's seat that ended the string of abuse. 

Armin looked no where but at his desk, but, in his peripheral, he caught a wide eyed blue stare flooded with concern from across the room.

 

Those same eyes greeted him once he'd bounded at the door when his sleeve was snagged in someone grip.

 

Looking at the girl was almost like looking in the mirror, and suddenly Bobby's biting words about being a girl pinched twice as hard in his gut.

"Who is that guy?" The girl asked.

"Just-" Armin shrugged. "No one. He's no one."

"Yeah, he is a no one," she agreed, "but who  _is_ he?"

Armin muttered his name and continued in his walk to Natural Science with the girl treading close to his heels. 

"Why does he say such mean things to you? Who does he think he is?"

"A friend who's trying to help," Armin said weakly, relaying the message that Bobby had been driving into his head since the beginning.

" _THAT'S NOT A FRIEND,"_   the girl practically screamed in bewilderment. "Listen," she said softly, taking Armin's hand within both of her own, "I'm sitting with you from now on, okay? If he says anything, he's gonna be dealing with the both of us." She squeezed his hands and smiled. "I know I don't look like much, but I'm on your side. He's... he's a butt."

Armin laughed through his nose. "He is."

"I'm Krista," she squeezed his hands. "And this is what a friend is. This is what a friend does."

Nodding, Armin found his voice was shaky at best when he replied with, "I know."

 

The rain cleared by the weekend, and Eren was the first at his door. He'd long since ditched the concept of knocking and barged in whenever he felt like visiting. Neither Armin or his grandfather minded.

Armin's parents, on the contrary, did.

"Armin!" Eren screamed, wiggling the doorknob violently. "Why's the door locked?"

As if the answer to his question would come in shaking the doorknob harder, he wriggled it again. 

"Come on! We're leaving for the zoo in five minutes, you wanna come? I know it's short notice but you look fine, I'm sure. Let's  _go."_

The door was yanked open by two strangers. A taller man with hair going grey at the temples and a pudgy woman with pale brown hair cropped short. Their faces were equally displeased. 

"Can we help you?" The woman's frown somehow sunk deeper into her wrinkled face.

"I-" Eren faltered, "is Armin home?"

"I'm home," Armin called from the back of the house, waving over the top of the sofa in the living room. An infomercial flickered across the small television screen.

"Wanna come to the zoo?" Eren asked past the woman's shoulder.

The light in his eyes slowly flickered and died. "I can't. My parents are home," he nodded towards the adults guarding the door. "Family time."

Eren's smile fell as he spared a glance across the street where Mikasa shoved a cooler into the trunk of the packed minivan with the force of ten men. 

"Oh," Eren raked a hand through his hair, "we're having family time, too, I guess. But, it's not the same without you. You're my best friend."

"I'm sorry," Armin sunk lower on the sofa until his eyes barely looked over the back.

"It's okay. Maybe we can go another time. I won't go look at the water animals, okay? I know those are you favorite, so we can only see those together."

Armin's smile was hidden behind the back of the sofa. "Okay," he nodded, "have fun with your parents."

Eren scoffed and rolled his eyes. "As if." He turned away, but spun back around instantly. "Oh, and, um, it's nice to meet you guys. Sorry about the yelling."

 

Armin watched as he ran back across the street before the door was closed again. His parents didn't speak on the matter, rather they returned to quietly discussing their next missions trip over coffee in the kitchen.

Hours passed before they revisited him in his spot in the family room.

"So that boy was your friend?" His father asked, looking down his nose at Armin.

"Mhm!" Armin replied. "His name is Eren and we've known each other since we were like 11. He's really funny and he talks a lot and he's really brave."

"Is he always so loud?" His mother asked, thumbing through a new version of the bible she had yet to highlight.

Armin laughed. "Yeah. It's part of what makes him so great."

There was a large rolling silence that nearly made Armin suffocate before his mother spoke again.

"I'm not a fan, I think."

Armin frowned, looking to his father for any sort of encouraging word, but all he was given was a shrug.

"Why?" He finally asked quietly.

She shrugged, completely distracted by the book in her hands. "He gives me a bad feeling."

Armin let the conversation die.

 

Sunday night, Armin's mother had decided to act as a mother and wash buckets of laundry, taking every single shirt Armin owned in her cleaning rampage. Though her intentions had been good, she'd forgotten about the dryer halfway through washing the load and had fallen asleep on the love seat, leaving Armin with no clothes or choice in his actions come Monday morning.

He scurried into his mother's room, plucked a sweater from her abundant and overflowing closet, covered it with his jacket, and dashed out the door.

He had no time to spare as Eren waited for him at the curb, and there was no other person he would rather see.

Girly sweater be damned.

 

Monday morning was the first opportunity Armin had been granted to see Eren since the offer to go to the zoo.

An entire weekend without his friend was torture, and the crushing hug he wrapped Eren in was a direct consequence. 

"My parents don't like you," Armin muttered into Eren's shoulder before he pulled away.

Eren frowned. "What? What did I do?"

Shrugging, Armin fidgeted with a loose string on the sleeve of his jacket. 

"I like you, though," Armin said as if it would count for anything at all.

In return, Eren laughed and elbowed his side. "Good, you better. I hope you know the zoo is really boring without seeing the stuff that lives in the water. I sacrificed for you."

"A true hero," Armin smiled.

"A reluctant one."

"Poor thing," Armin patted Eren's cheek once before taking off in the direction of the high school with Eren following him in stride.

"Fuck you, dude. Do you know how boring it was? I had to sit and watch lizards while everyone else went to see polar bears and shit. Do you know how many lizards I saw in two hours?"

"Too man?" Armin guess.

"Too fucking man," Eren confirmed.

Armin smiled and shook his head as Eren glowered at the pavement, kicking every small stone they happened across. The silence was an amicable one. 

"My parents leave again in two weeks," Armin said, "maybe we can go then?"

"Hopefully," Eren's grin was lopsided and toothy. He looked so happy when he smiled. "I'll see you after school, yeah?"

Armin nodded. "Yeah."

 

By the time the sun had reached its highest point the temperature pushed the upper 70's, the heat had completely eliminated Armin's pattern of conscious thought.

The events of the morning were gone from his mind, as he stripped his jacket away only to reveal the gaudy floral pattern of his mother's least favorite sweater. No one seemed to mind it much, only offering dim smiles as he passed between buildings on his way to his homeroom class.

Of course ordinary people didn't mind. Bobby, on the other hand, minded much more than he reasonably should have.

He was sure that everyone knew about it, too. 

"Wow," he called across the schoolyard, catching curious glances as he stomped through the grass, "I always knew you were a pussy, Arlert, but I didn't know you wanted one, too. Nice sweater. Grandma pick it out for you?"

"I-" Armin looked at his own person and felt nausea swim in his gut, "I don't. This isn't mine. It's- I didn't. I don't-"

"Come on, Arlert. We're in English together. You know how to make a sentence, so fucking make one. How do you explain this?"

The fist that was balled into the front of the fabric was was dirty and was sure to stain. They took slow steps backwards. A grim dance of hunter and prey until Armin's back hit a wall.

"How. Do. You.  _Explain_." He said again, low and gruff. 

Armin whimpered and tried to pull away, but with his back pressed against the grit of brick, he had nowhere to go.

He ducked his head in shame.

"I didn't- I mean I couldn't find- There was nothing else- I- My mom- and-"

Bobby shoved him back. Hard. The air in his system vanished, leaving him gasping. His head bounced against brick and his vision blurred for a terrifying second. 

"You fucking he-she," Bobby's words escaped in a low growl that turned Armin's blood cold. "Are you gonna cry for me? You gonna cry like a god damn girl?"

Armin grumbled something he hoped could be considered a word, but it didn't seem to matter when a girlish voice entered the scene. 

"Leave him alone," the girl said. Armin made out blonde hair and clear blue eyes. The sweater Krista wore swallowed her whole and her heels didn't quite look like they were made for action, but that didn't change the fact that she looked like a savior, and she was ready for a fight.

"What are you gonna do about it, princess?" A boy in Bobby's group purred.

She offered no words, only stamping on his foot with the spike of her heel and swiveling her ankle as though she were putting out a cigarette. She crushed his flame and her face only grew more stern. "Let him go," she tried again.

"Sorry, babe, no can do. We have to teach him a lesson about being a real man."

Armin's head felt thick and his throat burned.

"Being a bully doesn't make you a real man," she scoffed with disbelief, "it makes you a coward. You're scared because someone is different than you are and I am so sorry for your limited view on life."

"Make her shut the fuck up," Bobby demanded, whipping his head around to face his two supporters. One rubbed at his foot while the other manhandled Krista, kicking and screaming, into his arms, hand clamped firmly in place over her mouth. 

It was a corrupted dictatorship he ran. 

The fist pressed against Armin's chest kept him pinned to the wall, and Krista's eyes pleaded a million apologies.

"You should feel sorry for yourself. A girl fights better than you do. I knew you were a fucking queer," Bobby sneered in disgust. "That's why your friend doesn't like you. He knows you're a dick loving, repulsive mother-"

"If I were you," a new voice deadpanned, "I would start running right about now." There was no malice. The tone was even, flat, and promised destruction of the highest caliber.  

Armin would recognize that voice anywhere. 

Ymir.

Bobby's posse took an initial step back, and Armin couldn't blame them for that, but they still held firm to orders received from the boss.  

"You fucking idiots," she said, taking a slow and intentional step forward, grimy combat boots digging into the mud, "let her go, or so help me God you'll meet an early grave."

When no one relented, the fighting was introduced.

But, of course, the intrusions didn't stop there.

Eren Jaeger was a boy who was able to smell french fries and fights from a mile away and he was there in record timing, right on Ymir's heels.

It wasn't until he and Armin made eye contact that the fire of rage lit in Eren's eyes. This was no longer a fight for fun. Recognition was clear along with uncapped and fiery anger. 

This fight had turned into a battleground, and Eren was leading the front lines.

"You are going to die today," Eren growled much like a promise.

"Oh, look at that, Arlert. You're boyfriend's coming to save you," Bobby forced Armin's chin in the direction of Eren's gaze with enough force to crack his neck.

Humiliation pooled in his stomach.

Armin was beyond words. Tears welled in his eyes. This was what would push Eren over the edge.

To both Armin and Bobby's disbelief, Eren only look another heavy step forward. "And so what if I am?" He challenged, "what are you doing to do about it?"

"Disgusting queers."

Armin was pulled from the wall only to be shoved into it again with much more force. His head pounded and his back throbbed. Bursts of color dotted his vision.

Eren wasted no time going in for the kill as he dived onto Bobby and plowed him into the ground with gnashing teeth and wild fists.

The sounds of crushing bone and loud screaming profanities caught attention rather quickly, and soon a crowd had formed around their small group as Ymir held her own against two goons and Eren worked on turning Bobby into a living pulp.

Connie made his grand entrance from left field, sliding into the chaos in every literal sense of the word. He kicked up a cloud of dust, and took one of the boys Ymir fought to the ground in a fatal swoop. 

"Homerun!" He screamed, pouncing to his feet with arms raised high. Before the other boy could find steady footing, Connie kicked him directly in the stomach and sent him hurdling into the ground again. "Who said you could move, homie?" His smile was wickedly bright. 

The chanting of "fight, fight, fight" filled the air. People cheered when punches were laid and blood was spilled.

Numbly, Armin could only rub at his eyes and lay limply against the wall he'd be brutalized against for support. 

He ached. 

With all the attention they'd received, it only made sense that teachers arrived in hoards to clear the mass of school kids and drag everyone involved in the chaos by the ear to the principal's office. 

No situation got better until it became worse, of course. 

 

Mr. Smith was generally a kind man who wore a warm smile and bright eyes. Now, though, he looked nothing less than furiously disappointed.

"Who started it?" He asked.

Armin felt a lump in his throat but he didn't speak when he felt the daggers being shot at him from across the room where the group of goons sat.

Principal Smith sighed. "Someone had to start the fight, and no one is leaving until I find out who."

Prolonged minutes of silence fell over the entire group and no one offered any form of an answer.

Armin cracked first. 

"I did," he whispered.

The unbelieving look on the principal's face did little to comfort Armin.

"You did?" He asked in conformation.

"Y-" he sighed, "yes sir."

"I'm going to need you to stay with me, Armin. The rest of you get a three day suspension starting tomorrow. Go to class. I'll call your parents myself," his voice was grave and wreaked with disappointment beyond words.

All of the other kids existed silently. Ymir and Krista left with their hands close enough to be intertwined. Armin was sure he was only seeing things though. His head swam. 

"Mr. Arlert, I don't believe for a second that it was you who started any sort of altercation. I'm very close friends with all of my staff, and you're the student they praise the most. If you would like to tell me the truth, I would greatly appreciate it as I would prefer not to punish you this severely."

Thoughts crowded his head with millions of ways he could blame Bobby, but, in the end, he only had himself to blame for being the way he was.

He'd caused so much trouble from being a burden.

He deserved what was coming for him. 

"No, sir. It was me. I did it. Please just let the others out of it." His shoulders sagged and the threat of crying was becoming harder and harder to keep at bay. "Please."

Mr. Smith frowned when he passed a box of Kleenex over his desk. Armin accepted it gratefully. 

"Unfortunately, I can't do that as the school as a very strict policy against any type of physical violence. Even more unfortunate is the fact that the punishment is more severe for the one who started the altercation."

Armin nodded in understanding.

"You'll have to receive a five day out of school suspension. You won't be allowed to attend any of this year's school dances, parties, club meetings, and otherwise. Also, you're to write a full two page report describing how and why the fight took place as well as alternatives to your course of action." He paused and looked down to his hands placed on his desk, fingers laced together. "Are you sure you want to assume responsibility, son? It's not too late to tell me what happened."

Resolute in his decision, Armin hung his head. "I'm sure. But, would it be okay to go home early today? I don't- I'm not feeling well."

After taking a moment to think, Mr. Smith nodded and turned his desk phone to face Armin. 

"By all means."

 

Armin waited patiently outside of the principal's office as he waited for his grandfather to arrive and pick him up. As he waited, he gained company in the form of a freckle faced stranger with wide coffee colored eyes and an undying smile that felt completely genuine despite the cold shoulder Armin was giving him.

"I like your sweater," he said in Armin's direction with his hands in his lap and his legs folded at the ankles. 

Armin looked down in shame.

The other's child's smile fell for just a fraction of a second, fast eough to be blamed as a trick of the light. "I especially like the color of the flowers at the bottom. They're the color of your eyes," he hummed appreciatively.

Armin looked at the sweater himself and nodded. "They are," he confirmed as if it was necessary.

"I'm Marco!" The new kid said, hand outstretched, "and I'm new." he tacked onto the end. "We just moved here from the other side of the  _country_."

"Wow," Armin whispered, "that's amazing. Armin."

Their handshake was brief, but the smile the lit Marco's face never dimmed again. The light behind his eyes flared and he seemed to be content. 

His happiness was the infectious kind that made Armin smile without realizing what he was doing. 

Ten minutes later, Armin's grandfather pulled into the school lot with a look of complete concern as he ushered Armin outside of the school. Armin gulped in fresh air like it was lifeblood, and was completly unable to shake the feeling of Marco watching as he left.

"So you aren't feeling good, champ?" He asked as Armin slammed the cabin door closed and the truck's engine heaved loudly as they left the lot.

"No," Armin mumbled. 

"Well," he prompted, "where does it hurt?"

Armin took a second to collect himself before he was able to answer with any conviction at all. "Everywhere."

"I've got just the medicine for you, buddy," his grandfather cracked a grin.

Armin nodded, and allowed the conversation to fall apart. 

 

On Wednesday nights, church services ended at 8 o' clock. 

At 8:15, Armin's parents arrived home.

At 8:17 they listened to the voicemail left my Principal Smith.

At 8:20 they'd stormed Armin's room like it was the Battle of Normandy.

"You  _started_ a fight?" His mother wailed as she always did when she was angry. 

"Yes," Armin replied, eyes on the ground.

"I heard the name of your delinquent friend in the message your principal left," she continued, and Armin winced. "I knew he was a bad influence. I just knew."

Armin's throat closed in a sensation that felt as though he'd swallowed five pills dry. 

"He is never allowed on this property again, do you understand?"

"I understand," Armin confirmed.

"I don't need him tainting my angel," she whispered.

"I understand," he repeated.

She paced for silent minutes before a hand found his hair and she ran her fingers through it slowly. "My angel."

Armin bowed his head until she took the initiative to leave.

 

At 8:45 he was alone.

At 9:21 he broke down in tears.

At 11:54 a soft tap on his window caused him to jump upright in startled fear, and another sent him crawling to his window out of curiosity.

When he pulled back his curtains, Eren looked up at him, beaming and waving with one hand while the other cradled a slew of small pebbles. 

Armin heaved his window upright and leaned out of it with a grin wide enough to hurt his cheeks.

"Eren," he whispered, "your parents didn't kill you."

"Nah," Eren shrugged, dropping the stones in his hands, "to be honest, Mikasa was more angry than mom and dad were. Typical."

"Very," Armin giggled, but it was a short lived moment of happiness. "Mom said we can't be friends anymore."

Eren seemed unconcerned, throwing his hands behind his head and allowed his shirt to rise to his navel. "Two more weeks, right?"

At first, Armin knit his eyebrows in confusion. But, realization hit him clearly. His parents left again in two weeks. 

"Yeah," Armin felt his smile returning, "we're still going to the zoo, right?"

"Hell yeah, man. You owe me for a sad trip without you."

Sighing with contentment, Armin folded his arms across the window sill and used them as a pillow. The bags under his eyes sagged, but the sight of Eren twisted his stomach into knots and sent his heart hammering.

He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he couldn't bare the thought of sleeping alone. 

"You look kind of sick," Eren said from his vantage point below the window. "Do you need anything? I can go get tissues? I bet Mikasa could scale your house and deliver medicine."

"Eren, I'm not a hostage. I can go and get my own stuff."

Unconvinced expression in place, Eren clicked his tongue. "That's what a hostage would say."

"Probably," Armin sighed.

"Definitely," Eren stole a glance at his house and met eyes with Armin once again. "Hey, my parents don't know I snuck out, so I better," he motioned towards his house with his thumb.

Sadly, Armin nodded his understanding, and watched as Eren made his way through the yard. 

"Wait," Armin hissed, stealing Eren's attention once again. He spun on his heels in the slick grass. 

"Yeah?"

"I just- thank you. For standing up for me today. You didn't have to do that."

"I did have to do it. I told you, if someone hurts you, they can expect to get hurt by me. You can count on it. Every time." Eren shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jean and gave a half-assed shrug. 

Armin felt himself blushing but he couldn't care to hide it. "Thank you, Eren."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "I'll do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and every other day for a hundred years if that's what it takes to keep you safe. You don't have to thank me for caring about you, dude. You're my best friend. And if you go down, I do too."

"Eren, I think that if it's still going on a hundred years later, we should probably just skip town and change our names," Armin laughed as Eren rolled his eyes and began walking backwards through the street. "Oh, and be careful, you might get kidnapped walking home at night."

Eren smirked and threw his hands in the air. "They'll bring me back within ten minutes."

Armin took a second to consider it. "True," he agreed. "Goodnight, Eren."

Armin thought his stage whisper wasn't quite loud enough to reach across the street as Eren began work on climbing the terrace that led to the second story awning. Once he'd reached the top though, he turned and saluted Armin from his perch on the roof tiles. 

"See you when they release you from prison," he called through the night air.

The stars burned brighter and Armin's laugh was crystal clear, hearty, and real.

The balloon of anxiety in his chest burst, and the tight feeling it had left vanished with it when Eren slammed the window to his bedroom shut for the night.

 

Over the course of his five day suspension, Eren taught Armin the art of sneaking out, after many terrifying failures, and one time of Armin very nearly tumbling down from the second story window.

With time, patience, and too much effort to speak of, they'd formed an unbreakable habit.

Every night at 1:30 in the morning, Eren would throw a small stone at Armin's window. Armin would then make his great escape, crawling out of the window, across the roof, jumping onto the roof of his grandfather's gardening shed, and shimmying down its broken gutter until his feet landed on solid ground. 

Eren would take him by the hand and lead him through the woods and into their hide away where the world didn't exist and the only thing that mattered was the fact that the stars still shined, the moon still glowed, and they still had each other. 

"Your eye bruised pretty badly," Armin noted as the sat across from one another on rain dampened stones. The creek bubbled to fill the silence.

Eren hummed and leaned his elbows on his knees. "You lip still looks pretty swollen, too," Eren said, leaning dangerously close.

When his thumb pressed against Armin's lip to gauge the swelling, fireworks erupted beneath his skin and he took in a sharp gasp.

"Sorry," Eren flung himself backwards, hands in his jacket pockets, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just- I guess it still hurts then, huh?"

"Y-yeah," Armin stuttered, cupping his chin in his palm. His face felt on fire. "You have to go back to school tomorrow," Armin spoke to the ground.

Eren made a noise of disgust. "God, I know. Don't remind me."

Armin laughed. "Tell me if Bobby is still in the hospital, will you?"

"If he's not, I'll be sure to put him there again. Fucking animal." Eren's face twisted in repulsion. "Why didn't you tell me about him? How long has he been breathing down your neck?"

"Long enough," the shrug on Armin's shoulders was limp, "that was the worst he's ever been, though. I promise."

"I hope you realize that now he's never going to see you without me. He's going to learn his place one way or another."

A flame licked the insides of Armin's stomach and he bit his lower lip to conceal his smile. 

"Don't you want Reiner to back you up?"

Eren snorted, "no. Let your boyfriend handle this." Eren toothy smirk caught the full blown light of the moon, and Armin's erratic heart did somersaults.

"I'm sorry about that," Armin's voice shook more from elation than the cold.

Eren brushed the apology away with the flick of his wrist. "What is there to apologize for? I've got myself a real babe."

Armin groaned, and Eren laughed, causing a din loud enough to startle a woodland animal into fleeing. 

"What time did you say your parents normally wake up?" Eren asked once he'd collected himself and Armin's embarrassment had almost kind of settled.

"Uh, five," Armin answered.

Pulling out his phone, Eren flipped the top just long enough to check the time. "Come on, then. We have forty five minutes to get your ass back inside that house."

The mission of getting back into the house via the gaping second story window was a different obstacle all together, and it took every single one of those forty five minutes once Armin was able to balance on Eren shoulders so he could be hoisted onto the garden shed. Once he'd lept across the gap that separated the house and the shed and had somewhat successfully wedged his way into the window without tearing down his curtains, he turned to lean outside again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Eren promised with a wave as he sauntered across the lawn. 

"I'll be here," Armin smiled.

"Once a prisoner, always a prisoner, Arlert."

 

Even once their suspensions had ended and Armin's parents had left for Guatamala, the tradition of meeting in the woods carried on. The loss of sleep was made up for by sleeping the afternoons away in Eren's bedroom.

Sometimes they would sleep in the upstairs of the Arlert home, piled across the couch that smelled like cheese. 

It was a happy schedule they had going for themselves.

At the tail end of the first semester Eren made sure to meet Armin after every one of his classes to ensure his well being and walk him to his next class. As time passed and Eren seemed to become more and more concerned with Armin, a certain fondness grew in his chest that he didn't quite have a name for.

Of course he was sure that he cared for Eren. His was his best friend. But this fluttering feeling whenever his name was mentioned was something new entirely.

Best friend, for some reason, no longer sat right on his tongue when they introduced one another. It only left a gaping hole somewhere in the dead center of Armin's chest. 

 

When Eren would sprint to his lunch table after sneaking out of class, Armin would feel every ounce of blood race into his cheeks. And he would receive suggestive smirks from Krista throughout the entire visit. She would study the boys, and then her food, and that same grin would return at the end of each cycle. 

On multiple occasions the word "fags" had been thrown their way. Krista would stiffen in anger with Armin following the same jerk reaction, but Eren brushed it off with professional ease. 

"It's none of your business who I fuck," he would say casually as a retort to every slur. Armin would go bug eyed and stock still, yet Eren would always wrap a comforting arm around his shoulder. Krista would sigh at the gesture, pretty grin in place on her painted lips. 

"Just ignore them, Armin," was his advice, "you don't need them. Just ignore it."

Close contact had never been a problem before, but when Eren skin's would near his own, Armin would feel electrified.

When they were away from each other, every other thought consisted of curiosities over whether Eren was happy or what he may be doing, thinking, saying. Suddenly, everything he did was fascinating. It was a strange feeling, but Armin did nothing to shoo it away. 

 

The first semester bled into the second and Eren's predictions had somewhat come true. Though they didn't get every class together, they did share two and a lunch period. Armin was more than happy to agree with this arrangement, and Eren didn't offer complaints either.

They buddied up for every project and studied together for every test into the wee hours of the morning until coffee wasn't enough to fuel their sleepy stupors.

During their study sessions, Eren managed to only fall asleep twice. Drool stained his study papers, but Armin didn't have the heart to wake him. Rather, he stuffed an arm pillow under his head and hunkered down for a long night spent in wooden kitchen chairs. 

 

Something in Armin changed during his freshman year of high school. He'd tried damn hard to convince himself that it was a natural reaction to cling to a savior after a fight.

It made sense logically. What didn't make sense, though, was why he didn't feel the same gratitude towards Kirsta. Or Ymir. Even Connie would make the situation more tolerable. But,that just wasn't the case.

Once summer vacation had approached and June was in full swing, one thing was very abundantly clear to Armin Arlert: He had a crush on his best friend, and there was no avoiding it now. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school has a way of changing people. Their interests, hobbies, and wants become drastically different with time.  
> Armin, unfortunately, is left to learn this the hard way. He swears he's okay though, as his friendships blossom with out without Eren beside him. But, God, does he wish Eren was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT. NEW CHAPTER ALREADY. That wait wasn't too terribly long, right?  
> I hope you guys enjoy it! All feedback is welcome.  
> Feel free to find me on tumblr at satelliitestars.tumblr.com
> 
> THERE IS A SURPRISE IN THIS CHAPTER THAT IM SUPER EXCITED OVER.
> 
> Reminder that I track the tags "fic: yours truly" and "thebohemianao3" on tumblr!

The summer that succeeded Freshman year was one meant to be retold for a variety of reasons, and Armin committed it to memory accordingly. 

 

During the summer months, Annie Leonhardt frequented the Jaeger household just as much as Armin himself did. After only a few weeks, she'd become a regular member of their patchwork family.

She spent weeks on end boarded inside of Mikasa's bedroom, only leaving every Sunday morning when her parents would roll into the drive and bang mercilessly on the door. Under normal circumstances, Armin was the only to hear the clatter and would be the person left with the job of opening the door and offering them company as she sluggishly pulled herself together and dressed for Sunday sermons. Though begrudging, she always attended. Unfailingly, she would return on Monday morning with a new set of clothes and as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which, admittedly, wasn't much.

No one ever really had much to say on the matter of Annie practically moving in. Aside from Eren. Naturally, Eren always had something to say. 

"Don't you have a house of your own?" Eren muttered on the morning of the last Saturday of June. Summer had only just begun.

"Doesn't Armin?" She said coldly as they all piled into the kitchen with a plan to create a king's breakfast of cereal and almost-but-not-quite spoiled milk. 

"Unlike you, he's welcome here," Eren said distractedly as he filled a large bowl the the brim with chocolate bran. 

"Shut up, Eren. I'll force that entire bowl down your throat," Mikasa threatened, bed ruffled hair an exact replica of her brother's. The severity of her threat made Armin shrink back while Eren only smirked and gave a loud laugh which Annie rolled her eyes at. 

Eren scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."

There was a loud clatter when Mikasa slammed her bowl onto the counter and rounded the kitchen island. Armin hurriedly scurried between them.

"Please be nice," he said, studying Eren with wide eyes until the other boy's shoulders sagged. He relented after extended time, once the fire in his eyes had dimmed to a warm glow and the tension in the air had thinned. He said nothing more on the subject, busying his hands by pouring a substantially smaller drop of milk into his already overflowing bowl. 

"Is dad home?" Eren asked past a mouthful of food that threatened to fall from the sides of his mouth. He rubbed over his lips with the back of his hand once he'd forced himself to swallow. 

His sister shook her head with a passive shrug as she returned to her previous spot beside Annie. Absently, she ran her index finger along the rim of her porcelain bowl. "Not this weekend. Or the next one."

"Probably not the one after that either," Eren spoke through his teeth. He met no one's eyes, rather he opted to study the bleached tile floor he stood on. 

Mikasa hummed, seemingly unaffected by their father's absense. "I think mom is home, though." The stress in Eren's stance lessened significantly. She ended Eren's angry paternally-fueled tirade before it'd even had a chance to blossom. Mikasa had the ability to read Eren without even flipping his pages. They knew one another. Despite their fights and disagreements, they knew each other so well. 

Eren's face softened immediately and a slight smile graced his lips. "That's even better. I have an idea."

He dumped his breakfast in the trash and left the bowl on the counter on his way to his parents' bedroom. Mikasa sat silently and studied the bowl with an annoyed glint in her eyes.

She huffed and blew hair away that fell across her face. "He's so messy."

"I don't like your brother," Annie said in Eren's absence. The statement struck Armin painfully, but Mikasa didn't seem to mind as she warranted the statement worthy of another shrug. 

"He has his days," she said, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. Everyone looked up when Eren stepped back into the kitchen with an annoyed expression stained into place. 

"You know," he said, throwing an arm over Armin's shoulder while resting his chin on his free shoulder, "just because I'm not in the same room, doesn't mean I can't hear you, Bitchface."

Armin could feel his friend's hot breath against his neck and his face became a shade darker. No one bothered to seem like they'd noticed Armin's shift in comfort. 

Annie seemed completely apathetic to Eren's direct accusation and less-than-kind nickname. "So, you have good hearing. Is that supposed to be your redeeming quality?"

"That and my shining, glittery, one-of-a-kind personality," he quipped.

"Which happens to be the equivalent of horse shit." Annie's expression never changed. Her demeanor remained collected.

To Armin she was terrifying, but, for Eren, she was the best kind of challenge.

"I like his personality," Armin said in the midst of their arguing, twirling his food with his spoon. 

"Poor tastes," Annie replied. 

"Could be worse," Mikasa cut in, "could be Jean."

Annie hummed, and Armin didn't dare say he liked Jean's personality as well.

" _Anyway,_ " Eren sighed, directing attention back his way, "I talked mom into taking us to the year 'round ice skating rink in Stohess. We're leaving in a couple of hours. Prepare to be creamed, girls, Armin and I are out for blood."

His grip on Armin's shoulder grew just a fraction tighter, and, in response, Armin's heart raced just a fraction faster. 

 

The only person who was, in fact, "creamed" was Eren himself. He even managed to draw blood. 

His complete lack of tact, grace, and skill alike left him falling and scrambling more than standing on his own two feet. 

"I can try and teach you," Armin offered, standing to the side with his lip caught anxiously between his teeth as Eren slipped on the ice yet again with a painful-sounding smack. Eren brushed him off with an unconcerned wave. His upper lip was still stained with the blood running from his nose. 

"I've got it this time. I can feel it," his confidence was admirable, but not quite enough to keep him afloat once he attempted to move from the spot where his blood had begun to pool. 

"Just let me drag you," Armin laughed, standing over Eren with his hands on his hips.

A child adorned in a bubble jacket and three different scarves had passed their location four times, and each time he stared a little longer. By the time Eren finally noticed, the kid was on his fifth lap. "Is Bitchface doing any better?" Eren asked as he pushed himself up and wobbled at the knees. 

Armin spared a brief glance across the rink. Annie held her own, pulling Mikasa across slicked ice. They both seemed blissfully happy in their own apathetic ways.

"They're kicking your butt," Armin said in lieu of narrating the scene. 

Eren sighed and gave in, holding his hands out. "Alright then," he smiled, flicking his hair out of his face though it stayed pinned there beneath his hat. Armin reached out and brushed the lock out of the way, and Eren's smile was wide enough to reveal every tooth he had. "Thanks man, now teach me how to be an ice princess."

"Of course," Armin agreed without hesitation, intertwining Eren's fingers with his own as they began slow laps around the ice. 

Eren learned very quickly that he could avoid completely wiping out by clinging to Armin and sending them both into a frenzy of maintaining balance, and once this lesson had been set in his head there was no way around it. Ordinarily, Armin would never have thought that having Eren cling to him would be a problem, but scooting around on hardened ice with blades strapped to their feet did not provide ideal conditions for slipping and clinging.

Armin never once uttered a complaint, though, even when he was smashed against the wall that surrounded the rink with Eren's nose buried in his skin. His laughter vibrated his entire person as Eren grasped the back of Armin's jacket and hid his face in Armin's shoulder until he'd fully collected himself. 

"I told you we shouldn't have gone that fast," Armin said breathlessly. His blood boiled beneath his skin and butterflies had erupted from somewhere in the pit of his stomach, making standing more difficult than it ever had been.

"Dude, speed is the name of the game," Eren said matter-of-factly with a sure nod.

"I think we almost took out a child," Armin laughed.

Eren reached out and pushed Armin's hair behind his ear before he shrugged. "It's a dog eat dog world. Kid's gotta learn some time."

Armin raised an eyebrow, and Eren cracked a smile, shoving his hands back into Armin's. 

"Alright, dude, lap two."

Tightening his grip on the hands in his own, Armin pushed off.

Time progressed, and Eren's abilities became increasingly substantial. For half an hour, Eren refused to move from the crouched position as Armin literally dragged him through the mass of skaters.

"Eren you're going too low," Armin would laugh pulling his friend along regardless.

"Consider it training," Eren responded, clutching to Armin's firm grasp.

"What could I possibly need training for?"

"War," Eren responded simply, yanking Armin towards him so that they both fell flat onto the ice.

Armin all but straddled Eren in the most uncomfortable way possible that sent his heart hurdling towards his throat. Eren's peeling laughter sounded distant past the blood rushing his ears.

"You gotta be stronger than that, Arlert," Eren said.

"I hate you," Armin snapped, collecting shaved ice from the floor and shoving it into Eren's face. Eren allowed Armin's assault. His only form of retaliation was balancing himself just enough to stand and shaking his hair like a wet dog before taking Armin by the wrist and making him move once again. 

As the boys completed lap after lap, Eren slowly gained the confidence to use only one of Armin's hands as support as they glided along the cleanly shaven ice, and by the end, they were in a close competition with the girls as to who could skate the fastest.

Eren, though sure of his abilities, lost every time. He never failed to laugh through his losses, and every time he would catch a severe case of the giggles, Armin would feel his insides ignite. 

 

When Carla Jaeger reappeared at the rink five hours later, all four children were achingly tired and ready for both dry clothes and warm blankets.

"Did you have fun?" She asked.

A choir of groans provided her answer.

"Good," she laughed as she escorted them out the door and into the dying afternoon light, "lets go home then, shall we?"

 

The following week, a Wednesday afternoon, hosted their next outing, though it was nothing special to Eren, for Armin, it was burned into his mind for its simple, picturesque perfection. 

The sun hovered high in the cloudless sky. The temperature rested at a perfectly happy medium of not too hot and not too cold. Children played, birds chirped, and crickets hummed in the thick of the forest, the echoes of their song hung in the open air like secretive whispers. 

Eren and Armin rested in the furthest and most desolate area of the park with a large picnic blanket, a poorly packed lunch and a rubber ball which Eren threw up in the air and caught to entertain himself through their idle chatter. 

"What do you think tenth grade it going to be like?" Eren asked as he tossed his ball into the air and turned to face Armin who tied flowers together by their stems.

A shrug passed over Armin's slim shoulders. "Hopefully better than last year," he replied.

Eren hummed in agreement. "It could've been worse though, right? I mean I half expected you to find new friends and just kind of... leave. I guess." 

Armin dropped his crown of flowers into his lap when his thin fingers stilled. "What?"

"Yeah," Eren said, resuming in his game of catch, "I mean, normally when people go to high school they lose old friends and make new ones. I'm glad that didn't happen to us."

"It won't." Armin said sternly, looking Eren dead in the eye. "That won't happen. They aren't us. Our friendship was sealed when my butt hit that creek, remember?"

Eren laughed and threw his arm over his face as he rolled over on his back. "I remember. You looked like a wet rat."

Armin frowned and threw one of his reject flowers in Eren's general direction though it fell embarrassingly short. "I probably still would."

"You haven't changed much, have you?"

"Speak for yourself," Armin smiled, studying his hands to avoid looking at Eren's peaceful form, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Slowly, he resumed his work of roping together wild flowers.

Eren huffed. "I've become a man."

Rolling his eyes, Armin nodded feverishly. "Of course, Eren."

Though his smile was shaded by his arm, Armin still caught it and his own lips twitched upward.

Whenever Eren was genuinely happy, Armin refused to believe there would be any way he couldn't be happy with him. He was infectious. He spread through blood stream and infected the heart, but no one would ever want a cure.

"Just eat your fucking sandwich," Eren finally spoke, "I made it just for you. Extra peanut butter, hold the jelly. Just like you like."

"What's the catch?" Armin asked as Eren forced himself upright with a grunt, squinting into the direct sunlight. "I always have to make my own for it to be right."

Eren shrugged.

"You spit in it, didn't you?" Armin questioned as he peeled away the way-too-many layers of saran wrap.

"Only like once."

Armin rolled his eyes so dramatically he could almost hear it, and Eren snorted.

 

For the following two weeks, it rained. Fat droplets fell in endless sheets that coated the whole town in a gloomy darkened shade. Dark clouds reigned over the city. A few times, Armin called his grandfather to check in and assure the older man that he was still alive and well.

"Oh! Armin! I knew there was something I needed to tell you," his grandfather had said at the tail end of the final phone call.

"Yes, sir?" Armin said distractedly as he watched Eren blaze his way through Medal of Honor for the fourth time since he'd bought the game. 

"Your parents will be back in town in October. And, from what they've told me, they'll only be leaving one more time. After that they're coming home for good," he laughed, "exciting isn't it? Maybe then you'll get to move to a house of your own and get away from this old man. Maybe you'll finally get out of Trost."

Armin's heart dropped into the acid in his stomach. 

"Yeah, maybe," he said. Suddenly the television wasn't quite so interesting. 

"They told me to tell you that they miss you, champ."

"I miss them, too," Armin replied in a grumble. He bit the inside of his cheek painfully.

"I'll tell them you said so."

"Grandpa?"

"Yep?"

"Can we not tell them about this summer? They don't need to know I wasn't-"

"They don't like the Jaeger boy," he gave a gravely laugh, "but, I do. The secret's safe with me, buddy. Enjoy your time with him."

"I am."

"That's all that matters to me. Be safe, alright?"

Armin released a long sigh. His lungs burned, but he was grateful to at least have his grandfather as an ally. "I will. Love you."

His grandfather hummed happily before hanging up the phone. 

"Dude," Eren said, turning from his spot in the floor to look at Armin, "you look sick."

After a long silence, Armin told Eren the news. 

Eren was even less enthusiastic than Armin was about it, and they spent the rest of the day laid across one another on Eren's too-small bed, talking about different ways to sneak out and when the best times to do so would be. 

"They can't stop us from being friends, right?" Eren asked when the clock read three in the morning and neither of them had claimed a wink of sleep. There was an openly afraid sincerity in his words that matched the feeling of dread that settled in the depths of Armin's chest. 

"No," Armin answered simply. He added no promise.

Eren's hand groped for his in the darkness, and when he'd found what he was looking for, he squeezed Armin's hand. Hard.

"Okay."

 

The rain was relentless, and though Eren had tried to drag Armin out to play in the rain, the cool wind made hypothermia feel like a real threat and they retreated back inside in no time at all. 

Carla Jaeger, the real hero that she was, offered to make cookies so all of the kids could pile into the living room and watch some sort of movie which Mikasa had picked out.

To Armin's horror, it was massively violent and even more terrifying and he spent most of the film with his face buried in Eren's shoulder. Every time he was be startled into jumping, Eren would laugh and pat the hair at the top of his head. Armin felt Annie's studious gaze find them on more than one occasion, but he couldn't find it in himself to care what she thought of them in that moment.

But, every time her gaze lingered just a second too long in their direction, Eren would loosen his grip if just slightly, and his laughter would die down to nothing in seconds. 

Armin, unable to take the movie or his dwindling spirits, excused himself to Eren's room until the movie ended. 

 

A few minutes over an hour had passed before Eren welcomed himself into his bedroom and flopped onto his mattress. Armin bounced along with the springboard in his wake, but didn't offer any words.

"You okay?" Eren asked when it became clear that Armin wasn't going to spark any kind of conversation. 

"Yeah," Armin smiled and looked up from his book for a split second. "I'm okay. I'm just not a fan of horror movies."

Eren nodded. He didn't laugh or joke or ask why. He only nodded. Even those sorts of small gestures made Armin's stomach flip. 

"Maybe we can watch something funny in here then, yeah? I mean, my TV isn't as big as the one in the living room. But there's that one saying-"

"Size doesn't matter?" Armin offered.

Eren raised his eyebrows suggestively. "That's the one."

"Oh my God."

"Okay, dude, seriously," Eren heaved himself upright and burrowed through his closet to find his limited collection of movies, "the only things I have to offer are girly movies that mom buys. That cool?"

"Completely cool," Armin agreed.

Eren studied two DVD cases, before shaking his head. "Choose between the chick flicks.  _Along Came Polly_ or  _Love Actually_?"

Armin laughed and scrunched his nose. "What's _Along Came Polly_?"

"Dude," Eren shrugged, flipping the box around, "I don't know, but it has a weasel on the cover."

"Clearly it's the winner."

"Clearly," Eren agreed, situating himself in front of his DVD player. Armin busied himself with stashing his book to avert his eyes from studying Eren behind his back.

It wasn't right, and he knew it, so he did all he could to avoid all temptation.

 

Eren flipped every light switch in his room off, closed the blinds and hurdled himself into his bed, causing Armin to fall into him. He laughed it off with ease, though Armin's face was aflame in the pitch black. 

"Already all over me, and we haven't even gotten to the romantic parts. Pull yourself together, Armin."

Armin hit Eren with his own pillow before he pulled it against his chest as if he could somehow suffocate his erratic heartbeat. 

It was clear that Eren had no interest in the movie when nearly half an hour in, he opted to learn how to braid hair using Armin as his model. Though he dreaded the thought of having to comb his hair later with the undoubtedly massive knots Eren would create, Armin let him do as he pleased until he grew bored of that as well.

"Hey, Armin?" Eren asked from behind.

Armin turned slightly where he sat. Eren's eyes were trained on the television screen where an intensely passionate kiss was taking place. "Yeah?"

"Do, uh-" Eren hummed and reconstructed his question, "do you know how kissing works?"

Armin felt his eyes widen. "In theory, I guess? I mean, in books people kiss a lot, so, I don't know. No, not really." His floundering made his stomach plummet into his socks. 

Eren hardly seemed to hear him. "Think you could teach me?" When his eyes moved from the TV to Armin's own, Armin felt his dignity pool in his gut. 

"No, I don't think I could," Armin squeaked.

"Come on," Eren smirked, "it just like teaching me anything else. Like... like how to ride a bike. Or how to figure out one of those math equations you like so much."

"Eren, how am I supposed to teach you how to ride a bike that I can't ride myself?"

"We'll learn together," Eren replied easily before biting at the inside of his lip, a nervous habit he'd picked up years ago which Armin could easily pinpoint even in the dark. "Everything's more fun when you trip and fall a few times, right?"

"No?"

Eren laughed, and Armin hardly noticed their proximity until their noses were nearly side by side. To his humiliation, he had raised himself onto his knees to subconsciously meet Eren halfway. 

His mouth was dry. His heart beat painfully inside of his chest.

"It doesn't mean anything," Eren assured him, "we're just learning."

Wordlessly, Armin nodded.

 

When their lips met, it was awkward. Neither of them knew what to do past that point, but, despite that, every nerve in Armin's system exploded in vivid color and nervous energy. Achingly slowly, Eren brought his hand from the mattress to trail along Armin's side. Though Armin had probably imagined it, he almost swore his hand was shaking. 

They pulled away just as quickly as they'd come together, Eren's pupils were blown wide and Armin could barely breathe, much less think.

Luckily, though, Eren was still capable of logical thought, and the kiss that followed the first was far more sure. Eren's hand, which had stopped on Armin's side, traveled across his back before stopping hesitantly at the hem of his sleeping shirt. After a few deliberated seconds dedicated to thinking through his next move, Eren's calloused fingertips rubbed at the soft skin of Armin's lower back, and he pushed his hand beneath the fabric with regret. A quivering moan forced its way out of Armin's mouth before he had a chance to keep it at bay. 

Eren smiled at the sound with Armin's lower lip caught between his teeth. 

As his confidence built, Armin was able to gain some kind of composure. Every romance novel he'd ever borrowed from his mother's study was suddenly in the forefront of his mind as he pushed back on Eren until the other boy was laid against his headboard and Armin pinned him there in a still rather chaste kiss. 

Armin pulled away, separating them by mere centimeters. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Why?" Eren asked with genuine confusion. A hand found its way into Armin's hair while Armin traced the outline of Eren's jaw with the tips of his fingers, committing every aspect of Eren to his memory.

Trembling hands moved along Eren's neck. "I- I thought I took it too far."

Eren laughed through his nose, pulled Armin back into his embrace, and licked along his lower lip. Armin gasped and in turn allowed Eren's tongue entrance into his own mouth. Eren accepted the invitation gratefully.

The kiss was mild by anyone's standards. It was clumsy, messy, and untrained.

Drool ran down both of their chins, and their hair was in disarray from wandering hands, but that stopped neither of them from pushing further. 

Eren's hands ghosted over Armin's hips and Armin huffed quietly, moving just close enough to accidentally brush Eren's crotch with his knee. The groan Eren gave was lewd and caught Armin by surprise, though it was by no means an unpleasant thing to hear.

Eren took him by the hair then. Their teeth clicked and their breathing quickened as Armin's knee rubbed against Eren's growing erection with more intention than Armin would ever be willing to admit.

Slick lips slid and curious hands traveled along exposed chests and backs.

Armin was far gone. His head had propelled somewhere into the clouds when Eren pressed soft kisses against his neck and behind his right ear. His thumb dragged along the corner of Armin's mouth, wiping away saliva without making a show of it. 

Eren laughed, breathless and silent. "See?" He whispered against Armin's collarbone, "just like riding a bike."

 

Their summer followed the same dull patterns of Annie and Eren fighting while leaving Armin and Mikasa to clean their messes.

Though in the beginning of the vacation they'd tried the steer clear of one another at all times, the further time progressed, the more magnetized they were. Having been confined in the same house for the entire month of July due to rain had led to a highly unfortunate circumstance for the two of them.

They saw one another day and night without end or escape. Slowly, though, with more exposure, the tension between the two had died away and had been replaced with empty fights that ended in concealed smiles.

In a way, they'd almost become friends. Bizarre and strange as it was, life had returned to relative normalcy once the weather cleared and August approached. The kiss was never once mentioned, and though it almost hurt, Armin wanted to be glad. 

 

On the second day of August, both boys were able to resume their places in their secret hideaway in the woods. School resumed in 23 days, and not a second was to be wasted.

"This was a weird summer," Eren said offhandedly as he picked leaves apart, allowing the torn pieces to catch the breeze and fly away.

"Hm? Why's that?" Armin focused on constructing a house made of sticks and leaves. He was seated in the center of the clearing with leaves, sticks, and flowers piled by his sides for easy access.

Eren shrugged. "I 'unno. Last year I was so pumped for school, and this year I just want things to stay like this. Everything is nice like this," he admitted as he stood and kicked leaves from his path as he walked in Armin's direction. 

He stopped just behind Armin and stooped in close enough to rest his chest against Armin's hunched back. Lightly, he placed the remains of his leaf on top of the structure Armin had created. 

"I understand," Armin said softly, feeling himself tense of the delicate press of their bodies. 

Eren sighed, and pushed himself away. He trained his gaze to the sky as he walked a large circle around their field. 

"Are you okay?" Armin asked once Eren had made his third complete lap.

Eren froze and raised a hand to swipe at a low hanging branch. A few leaves fell on impact.

Shaking his head, Eren raked his fingers through his hair, mussing it.

"Well, what's wrong?" Armin pushed himself onto his feet, brushing the back of his pants in vain. Mud clung to the fabric. 

Eren gave a hollow laugh and took in a took breath of summer air. "I have a huge problem, dude."

Biting his cheek, Armin rocked back on his heels.

"What is it?" He was hesitant, almost sure he didn't want to hear the problem.

"I think..." Eren groaned and shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Armin, I think I like Annie Leonhardt."

"Oh my God," Armin whispered. He had been completely right. He didn't want to hear this problem at all. 

"I know," Eren looked past Armin and into the thick of the woods.

 _No, you really don't,_ every voice in Armin's head shouted. He was beyond actual words, though. His chest was constricted far too tight. He only nodded. 

"Seriously, Armin. D'you think I have a chance with her?" Eren scratched at the back of his head and wet his lips.

Again, Armin nodded.

The smile Eren flashed almost made his honest response worth it. 

Almost. 

 

Armin had looked forward to the final 23 days of summer being filled with Eren, but somehow Annie had managed to infiltrate every conversation or idle remark. Everything seemed to remind Eren of Annie in someway.

Honestly, Armin wanted to be irritated. He wanted to scream and shake Eren until he came to his senses, but none of that seemed right. He understood all too well what it was like to adore someone who seemed unattainable, and if they was any way that Eren could find someone who made him happy in a romantic light, Armin refused to stand in his way. 

He had many flaws, but in no way did he ever wanted to be selfish. He laid no claim over Eren aside from strict friendship, and he had to come to terms with it.

He had to. 

 

Their class schedules followed the same trend of having absolutely no classes together during the first semester. Armin did find solace, though, in the fact that he shared a class with Jean and Connie while P.E had allowed him to stay with Reiner. His lunch period did match up to Eren's, though, and Jean got the chance to join in as well with Sasha tagging on his heels. Only two classes out of the day left him alone, but he didn't dare say he minded.

His grandfather had told him it was just a chance to branch out and make new friends that his parents may approve of. 

He'd never wanted anything less in his life, but as time passed it seemed like it was becoming less and less of a choice and more of a necessity.

For the first few weeks of the semester, Eren really had given an honest effort to sit with their large group every lunch period, but, when he caught wind that Annie was also mixed in somewhere amongst the crowds, his visitation hours became slimmer. No one minded as much as Armin did.

Eren had tried to justify skipping lunches by walking Armin home, but conversations just weren't interesting when the only person there was to talk about was the girl who had stolen Eren away in only a few short months. What Armin had worked years for was for naught whenever she entered the scene.

Maintaining a doomed friendship became harder, but that didn't make branching out any easier.

Eren was all he'd known, and all he wanted to know. They worked together. They fit like two pieces in a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. Of course there were lots of other people, lots of other confusing pieces, but they were meant to stay latched at each others side for the bigger picture to work. 

The only thing that consoled Armin was the fact that he _knew_ it wasn't something intentional. Eren didn't mean to push him away. He was constructed of love and uncapped affection, and he gravitated towards people who he could place that affection on. He was, and always had been, a protector. A beacon. He liked to make people feel accepted and wanted. Loved.

But, the more people he brought into his circle, the further Armin seemed to be pushed out to sea.

He was the default friend. When problems arose in his young relationship, Eren would run to Armin for advice. He would drag him out to the clearing in the woods at two in the morning to ask what he was doing wrong and how he could fix a mess that he'd never meant to create but Annie swore was there.

Never once did Armin tell Eren he should end the whole relationship. He had more respect for his friend than that. He remembered sitting in the unfiltered summer sun when he had sworn that there was no way he couldn't be happy if Eren was smiling beside him. 

He'd woven flower crowns, and Eren had played catch with an arm shielding his eyes.

Everything was so perfect.

Armin felt sick. 

What had only happened a month ago felt light years away. 

 

Life, for once, decided to be kind, though, and finding a support group was easy when they all shared a lunch table together.

"Are you feeling alright, Armin?" Sasha asked in mid-September as they all sat around a concrete picnic table outside of the cafeteria.

"Fine," he said, nodding when she pointed towards his tray of untouched food. He pushed it her way, and she nibbled off of it with a triumphant smile. 

"You don't look fine," Jean said without so much as looking his way. He sat on the table with his feet propped on the bench that Armin sat on. 

Armin sighed. "Thank you."

"No, I mean seriously, are you sleeping?" Jean cast a quick glance downward, and Armin averted his gaze. 

"Sometimes, yeah. I mean, Eren comes over and tries to get relationship advice in the middle of the night occasionally, but it's okay. I- I like to help."

Jean seemed completely unconvinced and Sasha's mouth curled downward. She dropped the green bean she'd been working on and wiped her hands on her skirt. "He has no idea, does he?" She asked.

"What?" The question was fueled with unease.

"Don't play that," Jean chided, shaking his head, "I don't think you could make your crush on Eren any more obvious if you tried."

Blushing furiously, Armin averted his gaze his his hands, fingers intertwined. Jean nudged Armin's thigh his the grimy leather of his worn out boots. "You're probably right," he muttered.

Armin had expected a massive show of screams and laughter at his admission, but there was nothing.

Some of the sickness subsided when Sasha asked, "do you think there's a chance that maybe he likes you more than Annie? I mean anyone in their right mind would."

Armin shook his head, and Jean clicked his tongue.

"This is Eren we're talking about, Sash," she reminded her, "he wouldn't know what was good for him if it literally hit him."

She hummed, "and then he'd probably only try to fight it."

"Like he's doing now," Jean concluded, and she nodded. "You've gotta do better for yourself, Armin."

"Tell me something I don't know," he sighed.

"Uh, it snows metal on Venus," Jean replied.

"Human sneezes reach around 100 miles per hour," Sasha chimed in.

"I know someone who kind of digs you," Jean tacked on.

"What?" Armin stopped their game.

Jean smirked. "Yeah, dude. Like it rains literal metal on Venus. Can you imagine how sick the goth kids would think that is?"

Armin glared, but Sasha got a good laugh out of it. He threw her an appreciative smile just as the dismissal bell rang, ushering them into their next class. 

"I'll introduce you sometime," Jean offered as he took both of Sasha's lunch trays to the garbage. She followed after him and they melded into the herding crowd, leaving Armin standing alone.

"Come on, dude," a familiar voice said when an arm fell over his shoulders. Eren turned to face him with a lopsided smile and eyes that shined without the glaring of the sun. "Don't just stand around and wait to get trampled."

Somehow that sounded appealing, but he allowed Eren to guide him onto the sidewalk. His arm was wrapped around Armin's shoulders, but his free hand held onto a different blonde entirely. Armin pulled away the second they reached the sidewalk which forked off to three different buildings.

"I'll see you," Armin said as he rushed away. There was no friendly tone to be traced in his words. 

Eren's face fell, but Armin had turned fast enough to not see its full effect. "Okay," he heard from behind.

 

Armin had chosen German as a foreign language elective, and very few students had joined him in this task. One, though, stood out among the rest. 

A boy with a freckled face and large eyes waved at him the moment he stepped in the classroom just as he had done every class period before. Generally, Armin would only kindly wave back and take his seat near the front of the room. The front row was always desolate.

But, now, with a new found determination, Armin trekked over to where the other boy sat and motioned to the chair next to him. "Is anyone sitting here?" He asked, tightening his grip on his backpack.

"No," the boy shook his head as a smile danced along his lips. 

"Do you mind?" Armin asked as he stripped himself of his bookbag and swiveled into the seat.

This earned him a laugh. "No, not at all. I- you probably don't remember me."

"I do," Armin promised, "you liked my sweater because the flowers matched my eyes."

The other boy blushed and nodded slowly. "That sounds really dumb now, doesn't it?"

Armin shook his head. "No. No, it's exactly the kind of thing I needed to hear. Honestly. It- that wasn't a very good day, but you were a good part of it." He smiled.

There was a pause.

"I'm Marco," he reintroduced himself with lively excitement, holding out his hand.

Armin clasped onto it without a second thought. "I'm Armin."

 

It didn't take long for Armin to really look forward to his third period class. It was nice to have someone waiting so anxiously to see him every day. 

Marco greeted him with the same amount of enthusiasm with every class period, and sometime hes even walked him to his other classes. He was so openly kind and overly friendly that it was nearly impossible not to be completely immersed in his stories of his hometown, his younger brothers, and his dreams of being an officer in the military. 

"Why the military?" Armin asked once when they had decided to try walking home together.

Marco shrugged and looked to the sky as if it could provide his answer. "It's not that I want to matter and make history," he said softly, "I don't really care if I'm in a textbook that kids won't ever actually read. I just want to make a difference. I want to protect my family and my friends, and what better way than to fight against enemies they don't even know they have. My dad, he, uh, he passed away last year. That's why we ha to move. The house was just too expensive. That's what mom told me. He served, too. He kept us safe, and I want to do the same."

Armin hummed and nodded. "They're lucky to have someone like you."

Marco only looked away, and his tanned face turned a shade darker. 

 

Lunch time conversations with Jean and Sasha slowly turned away from the topic of Eren. With three weeks time, he didn't mention how much he missed him quite as often. He didn't lose nearly as much sleep. His appetite returned in insignificantly small ways. 

"You look like you're feeling better," Sasha commented as she reached across the table to steal fries off Armin's plate. 

He nodded and watched her with an unmasked smile. "I am," he said, "I- I don't know. I guess I just made more friends. And I'm happy about it? I think."

Jean snorted and nudged Armin's thigh with his foot, still seated in his normal perch on top of the table. "What kind of friends?"

Armin rolled his eyes. 

"Seriously though, since you're all wide-eyed and cute again, wanna meet that friend I was telling you about?"

"Did you just call me cute?" Armin laughed.

"He's not wrong," Sasha said in Jean's defense and Jean jabbed a thumb in her direction. 

"That's why she's my favorite friend, Arlert."

Armin rolled his eyes and sighed. "I can't do anything tomorrow," he said, "or Sunday. My parents are coming home." The first day of October was on a Saturday. He looked forward to the date, but he also hated to dread it. 

"How about the weekend after? Dude, you have to work with me. I'm trying to help you."

"And I appreciate the effort," Armin smiled, "I think next weekend will be fine. It's just that normally when my parents first arrive home from long trips they don't want me out of sight for anything longer than a bathroom break."

"That's weird," Jean said.

Armin shrugged. "We go months at a time without seeing each other. It's almost understandable."

"Almost, but not quite," Sasha piped in and Jean nodded along.

"Anyway," Armin sighed, "after a week it should be cool to leave the house again. What's this friend's name?"

Jean hesitated and the bell rang just in time. Without preamble, Jean latched onto Sasha wrist and pulled her away into the crown, abandoning their lunch trays. "It's a surprise!" He called. 

Armin laughed and pushed his hair behind his ears. "Okay, Jean."

 

At 8:04 AM on Saturday morning, the doorbell rang. Armin had been up for two hours preparing himself for his parents' arrival, and the mixed feelings that flooded his system when the bell sang were a side effect of nerves.

He darted through the house, peeled down the stairs, and tore the door open.

"Hi, baby!" His mom screeched immediately, pulling him into a suffocating hug. "Oh my, it's been so long, hasn't it? You've grown so much!" She pinched his cheek in typical fashion and moved past him to drop the bags she carried on her back.

"Hey, dad," Armin smiled as he was pulled into his father's one-armed embrace as well. 

"Well, how was summer vacation?" His father asked as he distractedly shifted through bags stuffed full of tissue paper.

"It was good," Armin said with a smile.

"Did anything special happen?" His mother asked from inside the kitchen as she put coffee on to brew.

Memories of his first kiss flooded is mind and made blood pool in his cheeks. He only shrugged. "Not really," he pressed his lips together searching for any sort of diversion, "I made new friends. At school."

His mother gasped. "You're already in the tenth grade, and you're making friends and doing so well for yourself. I am so proud of you," she pulled him into a hug once again and Armin nodded, clinging to her. 

"They're really nice," he assured her.

"Are any of them girls?" Armin heard the smirk in his father's tone.

"Two of them are," Armin said, biting his lip.

The laugh his father gave was booming and Armin shrank into himself. "That's my son."

Armin nodded. 

 

It was a comfortable day spent inside. They all watched movies and read bible stories. His parents told him about the adventures they'd had at their missionary medical clinic and all the kind people they'd met on their journey. His mother had given him a blanket which she'd sewn herself with the help of natives in the area. 

The fabric was scratchy, but Armin held it closely anyway. For once, he was more than willing to sit and listen to hi parent's chatter for hours on end as they gushed about their newest travels. 

They'd seen new animals. Fed the hungry, built homes for the homeless. They'd even aided in building a new school for children in the area they'd served in. 

They were making a difference just like Marco wanted to. It was hard to admit, but he was almost disappointed when the stories ended and his parents retired to bed for the night.

 

In the quiet of his room, Armin was only left to his thoughts, accompanied by the familiar sound his his grandfather's oxygen tank buzzing in the room next door. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken with Eren about anything that mattered. He wondered what his friend may be doing now, or if he was even thinking about Armin at all.

A sharp tap on his window answered his mental bombardment of questions. Slowly, Armin inched across his bed and pulled away the drapes to reveal Eren standing in his lawn. Some mix between relief and sadness bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

"I made a promise," Eren said, rolling stones in his palm, "I know you're parents don't like me, but" he shrugged, "I'm still here to steal you away in the night."

Armin didn't think twice when he swiveled out of the window and allowed Eren to take him by the hand. 

They ran to the clearing. 

 

It was only them and the night. The wind whistled in trees, and the creek gurgled, but those were the only sounds to be heard.

"Hey," Eren said, shifting in a pile of dead leaves, "does that one guy still bother you? Robby or Jimmy?"

"Bobby?" Armin asked with a quiet laugh.

"Yes! Yeah, him, does he still-"

"No," Armin said, "we pass each other sometimes and he doesn't look at me like we're best friends, but I think he learned to be weary of me."

Eren hummed, crushing leaves between his hands.

"I have another question."

"Okay," Armin allowed.

"Um, the reason he targeted you so much. He thought you were gay."

Armin nodded. "Yeah, that was part of it."

"I was wondering. If- was he right?"

Armin sat in silence for a long time, and Eren allowed him all the time in the world. The creek continued bubbling, and someone in the far distance a dog howled. 

Finally, Armin took in a shuttering breath. "I," he licked his lower lip, "I think so."

"What?" Eren asked, darting into a seated position. The leaves around him rustled loudly and Armin winced. "Dude, why didn't you tell me?" He almost seemed hurt.

"It's not something that comes up in every day conversation, Eren. I mean we never really talked like 'hey, what's your favorite color? By the way, do you like to kiss boys?' it just doesn't work like that."

Eren nodded slowly as understanding seeped in. 

"I'm sorry I never asked. But, I need you to promise me something," he whispered.

Armin nodded in the dark.

"Promise me you didn't just not tell me because you were scared that I would act different around you, because I wouldn't- I still care about you just the same and it doesn't make a difference. I don't want you to be scared to tell me things like-"

"Eren," Armin stopped his sentence cold, "I wasn't afraid to tell you. I trust you."

Silence fell over them again.

"Hey, Eren?" Armin asked.

"Yeah?"

"What's your favorite color?"

Eren laughed and gave a simple response, "red."

"Okay," Armin bit his cheek, "do you like to kiss boys?"

"Huh," Eren huffed a soft laugh, rubbing his chin, "you know, kissing you wasn't so bad. So, I'm gonna say that's a really big maybe."

Armin laughed and covered his mouth with splayed fingers. "A maybe, huh?"

Eren nodded with enough vigor to make his hair bounce. "Not only that. A really  _big_ maybe."

 

Armin allowed the conversation to die, and they walked back to the Arlert house in silence. 

"When they leave," Eren prompted once Armin was back in the second story window, motioning towards his parents' car parked out front, "please come back home, okay?"

Armin studied his hands and swallowed the large lump that had formed in his throat.

"Night, Eren."

"Night."

Armin's chest felt tight when he fell asleep that night, and the feeling didn't subside.

 

Sunday progressed as it usually did when his parents were home. They went to Sunday morning services, made lunch at home, and turned right back to church for the night sermons. By the time Monday rolled around they were set in their usual routine of school and planning missions trips around pots of coffee.

"Did you ask your parents about going on a hot date yet?" Jean asked as he took a fry from Sasha's plate, very nearly losing a hand in the process. 

"No," Armin shook his head, "I doubt they'll care, though." His voice was melancholy. 

His chest still felt void. He imagined Eren standing in his lawn with a hand full of pebbles and a smile lighting his face and charging those vivid eyes. He'd wanted to tell Eren that he'd never left. Eren was the one who needed to come back home.

"Cool," Jean cut through his train of thought, "how about we all meet at the theater?"

Sasha nodded in agreement.

"That's okay with me," Armin muttered

Jean leaned down and tilted Armin's chin upright. "If Jaeger is allowed to have fun in high school, so are you. You look like a kicked puppy."

He felt like one. Still, he nodded his understanding.

"Be there around 7:45, okay?"

 

Armin arrived early. Fifteen minutes early to be exact. Nerves churned in his stomach and his hands felt clammy. For the 27th time, he wiped his palms on the front of his jeans.

When the Kirschtein family car rolled into the lot and Jean obnoxiously blew the horn a few dozen times too many, Armin felt his heart drop somewhere near his knees, and his nervous energy ran rampant.

The time it took Jean to find a parking spot and unload their mystery guest made Armin's stomach ache with anxiety, but as they made their way through the lot, Marco's face was all he cared to see.

Sheepishly, he waved. And Armin, both giddy and terrified alike, waved back. 

 

Of course, the initial part of introductions was awkward, but when Armin bought their tickets and Marco chose their seats in the very back row, the familiar comfort of Marco's presence finally fell back in line. 

"I feel like I probably ruined our friendship," Marco gave an uneasy laugh and rubbed his hand over the back of his hair. "I'm sorry."

"No," Armin whispered as the lights faded. Somewhere near the front of the theater, Sasha was leaned against Jean's shoulder. Their silhouettes were lined by the big screen. "No, this is exactly what I needed," Armin smiled when their hands intertwined in the growing darkness. "Honestly."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco isn't Eren, and Armin is well aware of that. He's coping just fine until tragedy strikes.
> 
> If your curious as to what Eren's mindset is through all this ish I would recommend listening to [this song right here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPskM8d0sac)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT TOOK ME A MONTH TO WRITE THIS.  
> OH MY
> 
> It's riddled with typos and grammatical errors which I intend to fix soon. I just needed to get something out do you guys knew I didn't give up on you.  
> Hope you all have a great holiday season!  
> Thank you so much for bearing with me. All support is so, so greatly appreciated.  
> Thank you, angels!
> 
> Edit: I think it's readable now.

Sunday, November 2nd, marked two weeks and a day since Armin had almost, but not quite, started dating Marco Bodt. He was kind of happy and almost pleased, but there was something that stopped him from being elated, and held him in a state contentment. He was reminded of what the something was when Eren called three times that afternoon. Armin ignored every call. Instead, he opted to funnel all of his attention into the MSN chat Marco had started. Mostly, it consisted of smiley faces and randomly distributed "lol"s, but at least the pinging notifications filled the otherwise quiet home. 

The quiet didn't last too long, though, when a familiar pounding erupted at the door. 

"Armin! I know you're home!" His neighbor called between rounds of violent rapping.

Armin wanted to be irritated, but the swelling in his chest and the sweat that collected in his palms gave him away. For good measure, he minimized the chat window before dragging himself towards the door. 

"Armin!"

"I'm coming!"

The knocking stopped instantaneously, and Armin had to take a lingering breath to keep his head from spinning when he stood too quickly. He was far too anxious, but what was new there. 

It didn't make sense for a knock at the front door to send him reeling and propel him into a panic. 

The boys still talked in the hallways at school. Occasionally, Eren would drop by their lunch table, though Annie was never far behind, and sometimes they wordlessly walked home together; the problem was not the absence of Eren. Eren never physically left him. The problem was the fact that Armin missed his friend even when he was right by his side, and that's how Armin knew he was in way over his head. In reality, he knew he'd always been over his head; now, though, he was beginning to feel the effects of drowning. 

The smile on Eren's face reached his eyes when Armin pulled the door open, and a single glance at it made all of the demons that plagued Armin's thoughts flee.  

"Annie isn't at your house today?" The edge in Armin's tone was completely unwarranted. The smile Eren wore so nicely fell, and Armin slumped, knowing he was the reason.

"No," Eren scratched at the back of his head, "I told her I was feeling sick today. I mean- your birthday is tomorrow and your parents aren't here. So... you know. I can't miss my best friend's birthday, right?"

Armin leaned heavily against the door frame, nails digging into chipping paint until it was lodged beneath them. He only managed a nod past the thick threat of tears that clogged the back of his throat.

"You wanna go to the park?" Eren asked. "I made lunch," the infamous picnic basket was held high above his head with pride, and the ratty tablecloth tucked under his arm had definitely passed its prime. 

It looked like home to Armin.

"Eren it's November," Armin's voice was one he didn't recognize. It was heavy laden with an unnameable sadness laced with a sick hope that maybe fate would decide what they had was worth salvaging. To punctuate his point, the late autumn air tore through the trees and Armin recoiled back inside using the door as a shield from the chill. 

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Eren gave a humorless laugh and half of a shrug. He hardly seemed affected by the breeze in only his thin long-sleeve shirt. Sometimes Armin was convinced that Eren was an actual breathing space heater. "We can do it some other time."

"No," Armin jumped too quickly. Too desperately. "We can do it now. The living room. We can do it here. It wouldn't be the same on another day."

Happily, Eren obliged.

Without asking for any permission, help, or otherwise, Eren began pushing furniture toward the outskirts of the room and spread the blanket out across Armin's parents' favorite rug. Eren had even spared candles which Armin was sure he recognized from sitting on top of the Jaeger's mantle. 

When he'd finished his preparations, he stood with his arms wide, ushering Armin toward their poorly prepared feast. 

"I'm no chef-"

"Clearly," Armin laughed as he picked at thick saran wrap.

"Shut up," Eren kicked at him from across the blanket, "next time you're making your own lunch."

Armin hummed. 

"Or we'll go out for a romantic night on the town."

Armin felt the embarrassingly blatant blush comong on when the butterflies of anticipation exploded in his stomach. look practically boiled just under his skin, and Eren had definitely seen it judging by the smirk he wore. Armin ducked his head as if it could hide his shame.

"Romantic night it is then," the smile in his voice struck a nerve that almost made Armin believe their friendship had never dissipated. Like the emotional drift Armin had known to exist had all been constructed in his head, and he wanted nothing more than to believe that like his parents believed the gospel. 

For the first time in far too long, they talked about things other than Annie and Eren's emotional battle with trying to keep her happy.

They talked about sports teams, Eren, as it turned out, still hated the Cowboys. Eren asked if picking back up on tutoring sessions was an option, and Armin hastily agreed that he could come over any time. Christmas was a topic for discussion as the boys battled over getting one another something for the holiday. 

"Eren, seriously, I don't need anything. Spend money on your family. I bet your dad would like something more than a tie this year."

Eren scoffed at the idea as he tore the wrapping off of a store bought pound cake. "He doesn't even deserve that."

"He still doesn't come around much, does he?" Armin frowned. His fathers absence had been a sore spot when they were younger. Armin had suspected that things had changed dramatically, but he was wrong. Eren shook his head to further that point. 

"We don't need him. Mikasa got a part time job at the that grocery store in Karanese." He poked and prodded the cake with the blunt end of a butter knife. "I also got a seasonal thing." He seemed less enthused at that.

Armin smirked. "A seasonal thing?"

He nodded, but offered no new information, which only made Armin want to pursue it further. 

"What kind of seasonal thing?"

Eren shrugged, becoming increasingly interested in digging a deep hole through the side of the cake.

"Eren-"

"I'm an elf," he bit, "I'm a fucking elf at the mall. I take pictures of the kids that tell Santa what they want for Christmas. Apparently, I'm doofy looking enough to make kids smile." He spared a glance in Armin's direction. "Don't you dare laugh."

"I'm not," Armin bit the nail of his thumb and smiled behind his hand. "It's just that I never- you don't have much holly jolly spirit, Eren."

"I'm full of it."

"You're full of something," Armin tried his hand at a shit-eating grin, "but it's not Christmas joy."

"Fuck you," Armin swayed when Eren kicked at him again, "Santa loves me and my stupid fucking tights."

"Maybe he loves you because of the tights."

Eren laughed at that. Loud and brilliant just like his laughter always had been. It was enough to make Armin's face flush. "He has good tastes, in that case."

Armin nodded and returned his attention to tearing his food apart. "Of course, Eren."

 

The entire afternoon carried on with the boys laying sprawled out across the grimy blanket in the living room floor. After hours of laying, they both found themselves on their backs, staring at the popcorn ceiling. In their proximity, the halos of their hair meshed together. 

"I miss you, Armin," Eren said once all conversation had died away and silence had hung over them like a guillotine. 

"You see me all the time," Armin's voice was hushed, constricted somewhere in the depths of his chest. The ceiling fan spun lazy circles.

"No," Armin felt Eren shake his head, "I don't miss seeing you. I miss  _you._ I-" he sighed, heavy and down trodden, "sometimes it just feels like you hate me, I guess. I don't know what I did. You were there one day, and then suddenly you liked Jean and Sasha better."

There wasn't a single unsuspecting way to say he was jealous of Annie. He couldn't fathom a single answer that wouldn't scare Eren away. Every thought and every potential response with an inkling of truth sounded like I love confession, so, he avoided the truth all together. 

"I don't know either." His tone was flat. 

"Yeah. It can be fixed though," it wasn't a question, and Armin was glad for that. 

"Definitely."

His computer pinged then and Eren turned his head in its direction. "Oh shit. Who are you talking to? Jean thinks he's too cool for web chats. I doubt Connie even knows how a computer works."

"No one," Armin said, pushing himself upright while curling his hands into fists. The blanket was caught in his deadly grasp, and he could practically feel himself wringing its filth into his palms.

Eren arched an eyebrow, folding his hands behind his head and allowing his shirt to rise just above his hips. Armin tore his gaze away. "Do we have a special someone, Armin? You seem pretty nervous, dude."

"I- no. I mean- yes. But I- I'm not nervous."

"You know, breathing helps when you're talking," Eren laughed when Armin resorted to throwing discarding sandwich bits in his direction. "Seriously, who is it?"

"Eren," Armin groaned, feeling his encroaching defeat. He still had yet to master the art of telling Eren no.

"Come on!" Eren sat up with a grunt. His hair was mussed and his shirt was wrinkled from how he'd been laying. He pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. "We could have double dates and shit. Those are supposed to be fun, right?"

"Supposed to be," Armin nodded.

"See? That could be us, man. Don't deny a date with me," Eren bumped shoulders with Armin, "tell me who I'm dealing with. I have to lay down the rules of how to treat you before we get to any of that."

"I don't think that's necessary," Armin reached for the nearest piece of furniture to haul himself onto his feet. 

"Bet it is," Eren followed suit, finding steady footing with much more ease. 

Laughing, Armin took slow steps across the living room. "Bet not. Because this guy is... if you looked up 'perfect' in the dictionary, Marco's face would be beside it. He's just-" Armin pressed his lips together and spun on the balls of his feet. "Everyone has faults, but then there's him, and I have yet to find a single one."

"Oh," Eren said from behind him. His hand had snaked its way into his hair again, and his lip was caught between his teeth. "Jean's Marco?"

Nervous habits.

Slowly, Armin nodded. 

"Well, that's great Armin. Really. You deserve someone like that." Eren smiled and dragged his feet along the carpet. "I still have to talk to him though."

"What?" Armin said, mildly distracted by the messenger window. "Why?"

"Because," Eren shrugged, "he's friends with Jean, for starters."

"I like Jean," Armin said.

Eren snorted. With his arms crossed over his chest, he alternated between studying the floor and his nails. 

"Do you think you guys are, you know, serious? Not that it's my business. Just curious, I guess." He went for a nonchalant shrug that was much more stiff than intended. 

Armin hadn't looked his way yet, though, so he'd likely not seen it. 

"It's not," Armin laughed, turned to face him with an even stare, "but I hope we can be. Maybe. My parents like him at least."

"Look at you moving up in the world," he still smiled, but something was missing. His eyes were stagnant. Irises once green like emeralds had turned swampy with unfiltered murk. "Finding boys who fit your parents standards. Which is impossible, by the way. I tried."

"The first time you met them you nearly beat the door off it's hinges and tried to steal me away like some sort of knight rescuing his princess from the tower guarded by dragons."

"That's basically exactly what I was doing," another dry laugh, "I tried," he repeated.

Armin hummed, pushing himself away from the computer desk. "We never went to the zoo."

"Water animals. Only to be seen with Armin Arlert."

"You got it."

 

The air was dry, and Armin felt somewhere between exstatic and distraught. They were never meant to discuss their love lives to one another. In Armin's mind, they were never meant to be with anyone else. Not, at least, until they'd given one another a chance. 

That wasn't going to happen, though, and it was an effective death wish on any platonic love they shared. It was shriveling. Dying. 

 

Eren cleared his throat once the quiet they shared was overwhelming and the tension was suffocating. Armin met his eyes and immediately looked away, while Eren's gaze lingered much longer. 

"I'll let you get back to that," he waved towards the computer, "thanks for eating my bad food and letting me tell you even worse stories."

"If I don't get food poisoning, you're invited back any time," Armin's voice was soft. The mood was delicate. The ice was thin where they tread. 

Nodding, Eren began collecting the things he'd carried across the street while Armin pushed the living room furniture back into place. 

"Happy birthday, Armin," Eren took him in a one-armed hug before he could think twice, and, instinctively, Armin buried his face in the crook of Eren's neck.

He loved him. Painfully.

"I miss you too," only the collar of Eren's shirt heard his confession.

"What?" Eren asked as he pulled back cautiously. 

"I said thank you," Armin smiled and laced his hands together in front of his stomach. "Just thank you. For this. I didn't expect it."

Eren nodded as he shut the door behind him, picnic basket in one hand and ratty blanket tucked back under his arm. Armin would be lying if he denied that he watched the other boy cross the street with tears brimming in his eyes and a heart feeling as though it had been spritz with acid.

MSN pinged.

**mbodtinator: u seem busy so ill just see u tomorrow okay? have a good afternoon, birthday boy! :)**

The sigh Armin gave was over the top as far as dramatics were concerned. 

 **armiina1:**  T **hanks, you too. See you tomorrow, definitely.**

 

Eren's scent still clung to his skin and seeped into his clothes, and Armin showered once he'd finished burying his face into his shirt to wipe away escaped tears. 

 

Armin wasn't sure what time he fell asleep, but when he woke up, streamers were strewn across his room to form a canopy. They laced their way through the hallways and led to the living room where the colors were more concentrated, and not a single square inch of wall space was visible past the colored paper, balloons, and banners. Gifts were stacked by the recliner his grandfather frequented regularly. 

Laughter from the kitchen cued Armin where to find his family. His parents and grandfather were crowded around a lopsided cake that his father proudly poked with 16 candles. 

"Happy birthday, kiddo!" His grandfather said from his spot at the stove.

"You're awake!" His mother gasped, moving with haste to plant a kiss on his forehead and twice on the cheek for good measure. 

His father, not breaking his concentration, offered a soft "good morning."

 

Armin ate his breakfast in silence as his mother cooed over how big and strong he'd gotten while his father gave silent nods of agreement.

His grandfather joined Armin in his friendly silence. Of his entire family, Armin had always gotten along with his grandfather best, and as he grew older he slowly realized why. 

They were essentially the same person. They worked on the same wavelength and understood that silence was just as comfortable as endless chatter. 

His grandfather only spoke when it was meaningful or helpful. Armin admired that.

 

After breakfast, gifts were distributed. 

He was given clothes, cash, plenty of cards from distant family, most of which he'd never heard of, and, finally, his first cellphone. 

The Motorola Razr was a raging technological fad, and Armin had fallen in lust with it along with every other teenager across the globe. So, as far as perfect birthday presents went, his parents had succeeded in every way possible.

"I love you, baby," his mother had whispered as she held him in a long hug. "We've missed so much of you growing up, but that about to end, okay?"

Armin nodded.

"Our next trip is planned for September 13th of next year, and we'll be back in December. After that, we'll be here to stay." His father chimed in as he balled wrapping paper between his fists. 

Again, Armin nodded and gave his father and brief hug as well.

 

When his parents had busied themselves with cleaning and removing debris from the living room, Armin made his great escape to the family computer where he sent Eren a brief e-mail with his new cell phone number before shutting the entire system down. 

In his room, he waited patiently for a call to come, but received nothing. 

 

Marco arrived in his mother's '96 Pontiac at exactly six o'clock just like they'd planned. He didn't even know how to be late. 

Armin had called him the definition of perfect, and Marco was surely living up the the expectation as he rang the doorbell and waited patiently for one of the Arlert's to greet him.

In the back of his mind, Armin heard Eren's frantic pounding and the ghost of a smile passed over his lips before he was returned to the present. 

Eren was locked away in his own house. Annie's car was parked in it's usual place on the side of the road. Life had returned to its normal order, and Eren wasn't here to pick him up and take him away. Marco was, though. Marco was waiting for him and he tried his best to convince himself that he was just as thrilled.  

"Hi, sweetheart!" 

His mother must have been the one to answer the door. 

"Well don't you just look dashing as ever." She smiled and patted his cheek as Armin descended the stairs. When she noticed him from the edge of her vision, his mother spun and clapped. "Your friend is here!"

Armin smiled. "Thanks, mom."

"You boys have fun. Don't pick up any girls. Call any time you need anything, okay?"

"Thank you, Ms. Arlert," Marco said past a genuine grin, as kind as ever.

"Call me Stacy, sweetheart. I'll see you both later. Behave," though her gaze was cast on Armin, Marco answered in his place. 

"Of course," his promising nod turned into something more of a bow.   

His mother laughed, tinkling like bells and winchimes, and blew a kiss in their direction. 

Once the front door had closed behind them, their hands intertwined.

Armin almost hoped Eren saw, and after the thought his gut twisted with guilt.

"You okay?" Marco asked as he opened the passenger's side door.

"Yeah, yeah thanks. I just zoned out for a second."

Marco hummed and the corners of his mouth tilted only just. "Any place you want to go in particular?"

"Anywhere," was Armin's immediate response.

For a moment, Marco stood and looked past the sloping hill of Shiganshina Avenue. "Anywhere it is."

 

Anywhere turned out to be the Marina at the edge of town that allowed public access to the pier. 

The ride there was filled with mindless chatter than consisted of little-to-no important content. Still, it filled the empty air.

Marco talked about how his youngest brother had signed up for soccer the following fall; they were both hoping he would earn the position of goalie despite the fact that he was scared of the ball. When Marco's story ended, Armin was quick to pick up the slack, opting to drone on about the details of having a birthday with his parents, something that hadn't happened since he'd turned eight. 

"They're always gone, you know? And, I mean, when I was younger, it wasn't such a bad thing because Carla and Grisha, Eren's parents, had essentially adopted me. But now-" he shrugged, "it's me and grandpa against the world now, mostly."

"You and Eren have always been pretty close, huh?"

Armin felt tension build from his core, "since I first moved to Trost."

"He cares about you," Marco said as he parked the car in a sandy lot filled with more weeds than asphalt.

Remaing quiet seemed like Armin's best course of action, so, that's exactly what he did. 

"He cares about you a lot more than Annie, I think. Not that he doesn't care for her! He does. But, I dunno. I think it's easy for people to pick you over anyone else. Eren would be the first in line."

Stubborn disbelief was cradled in the back of his mind, and he didn't utter a word as Marco circled the car to unlatch his door. "It doesn't matter anyway. He has her, and I have you. I have no problem with how fate worked out."

Marco's grin didn't quite match the solemness of his face. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy," he said.

Armin took his hand, slammed the passenger's side door closed, and they walked.

It didn't take long for sand to filter into Armin's shoes as they trekked along the beach, eyes set on the pier where a few lone fisherman cast their rods and a small family took pictures over the railings though the sun had long since fallen beneath the horizon. Small lamp posts guided their path, gleaming against the darkened sky. Charred clouds wafted through the newborn night sky, propelled by a gentle, but bitterly cold, breeze.

Instinctively, Armin nestled himself deeper into his coat.

"I really love it out here," Marco was barely audible over the lapping of waves and the thumping soles of their shoes against wooden planks. "This was dad's favorite place in the whole world. I remember when he was home, off-duty, he would take his boat out here around 6 in the morning, and he wouldn't come home until the stars didn't give enough light to bait his hooks by. Mom sold the boat after he passed away, but I still like to come out here. Fishing wasn't my thing anyway."

Armin hummed to prove he was listening, as he stretched his hand out to meet Marco's own. Their fingers laced together and they never missed a step. One particularly old and ragged looking fisherman laid eyes on their linked hands and turned away without giving them so much as a second thought. 

"So," Marco continued, "when you said you liked water, this is the first place that came to mind. I mean, it's not the ocean or anything, but I," he huffed a laugh that produced steam in the night's chill, "I hoped this would be okay. Really, I don't think I've even told Jean about this place. It's kind of a secret if I'm honest."

Armin smiled. "When aren't you honest?"

"Good point," his face darkened a shade of red, "maybe next year I'll be able to take you to the sea." His expression was openly honest and constructed of sun beams. The way his eyes simmered like smoldering embers made Armin's heart skip a beat and roses bloom on his cheeks. He bubbled over with nervous energy that pulsed through his entire being, toes and fingertips alike.

A smile danced on his lips. "I hope so."

A comfortable quiet settled over them as Armin dragged Marco further down the pier, only stopping to lean over the railing and study the water as it lapped at the pier's support beams. The quiet plopping sounds of lures being cast into the calm waters  and his own steady breathing was all that could be heard. 

If bliss looked like anything, Armin had seen it in this moment. 

 

As they walked back to Marco's beaten down sedan, they never lost physical contact with one another. Whether they walked with linked arms or twined fingers, they clung to one another's presence.

The drive back home was far shorter than the trip to the marina, much to Armin's dismay. It was also a lot quieter by comparison, but every time Armin would steal glances at the driver's side, Marco would be smiling to himself and in turn, Armin would feel himself smile. 

His positivity and undying light was infectious and it made that same bubbling energy erupt in his gut over again. 

When Marco parked outside of Armin's house, it was hard to recall a time when he had been more disappointed. 

"Do you want to come over after school?" He asked, twisted in his seat with his seat belt caught in his palm.

Marco bit his lip to hide an obvious smile, "if you want me here, I want to be here."

"Okay," Armin breathed, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Nodding, Marco replied with a simple, "tomorrow."

Something lingered in the air. 

There was a tension. A build up.

A moment that Marco took advantage of when he leaned over the console and pressed a light kiss against Armin's parted lips. 

"Goodnight," Marco beamed.

Armin threw his arms around the other boy's neck and giggled, nervously, into his shoulder. "Night."

That same nervous and elated energy fizzed in the pit of his stomach and coursed through his veins like fire.

 

Once he'd retreated into the warmth of his own home, Armin found that he couldn't quite tear his fingers away from his lips. He felt airy as he took the stairs one at a time, stumbling and caught in a daze.

Falling in bed was easy that night, with a mindset that closely resembled white noise. It was only disrupted when a muffled ringing forcefully pulled Armin from his trance. Armin fumbled for the phone in his back pocket and barely saved it by answering at the last ring. 

"Happy birthday! Thanks for ignoring my calls tonight, by the way."

Eren. It was almost tempting to hang up while Marco's kiss was still buzzing on his lips.

He didn't though. He couldn't. 

"I was out," he said evenly. 

"Oh yeah?" Eren asked, a smile in his voice, "hot date?"

"Kind of, yeah," Armin bit his thumbnail. 

"Huh," Eren huffed, "well what did you guys do? Was birthday sex a thing? How was it?"

"No! No, Eren. Nothing like that. No." Armin rubbed his eyes, "we just went to the Marina. The one with the pier." He paused. "He kissed me."

Eren was quiet. "Awesome. Did he kiss better than me?"

That was the first time Eren had ever mentioned the kiss since the deed had been done. Armin had almost believed he'd forgotten about it. "Absolutely, Eren. It was hardly a competition."

"Cut me some slack. I'm better now."

"Doubting it," Armin whispered and a warmth pooled in his stomach. 

Eren laughed and the sound was foreign. His genuine laugh could wake the dead in its volume, but this time it was weak. "I could prove it if you ever wanted me to."

"I'll take your word for it," Armin beat back the butterflies that swarmed his stomach. "No thanks."

"Your loss," Eren shuffled loudly, "well, I just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday, I guess. I almost missed it."

A thick knot formed in Armin's chest. "I appreciate it, Eren. Thank you."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Armin promised before shoving the phone under his pillow.

 

Armin found himself staring at the ceiling for a long while, counting how many cars passed through the avenue by the glare of headlights against his walls. Eventually, sleep found him; it was restless at best, consisting mostly of frustrated tosses and turns.

Even in his dreams, Marco was there. Happy, perfect, emitting his own light that drew Armin in light a moth in the daunting night. Marco was a beacon. 

The problem was not that Armin didn't like Marco. He was sure he did. There was nothing not to like about him. The problem was: he was not Eren. The boy who smeared mud across his face to catch bugs and shoved him into a creek bed. The boy who threw rocks at his window in the dead of night and enjoyed being dragged around ice skating rinks despite the stares and hidden laughs. 

The boy who paraded around the school flaunting their false relationship to drive bullies away.

Brash, bold, reckless. 

Marco was not Eren, but Eren was unattainable, and Armin was learning. 

He was learning. 

 

When the Monday morning sun filtered into Armin's bedroom, it was five in the morning and falling back to sleep was a lost cause. 

Reading bored him and writing gave him a headache, so laying around and running through potential scenarios for the day felt like Armin's only option. 

Maybe Marco would greet with him open arms, kissing him in front of God and everyone in the middle of the student courtyard. Maybe Eren would see. 

Or, potentially Eren would go back to times when Annie was nothing more than a nuisance to him. He would sit with him at lunch, demand to meet him at the end of the day, walk home with him after school, and force him inside for a while to play video games until the clock read three in the morning and Armin had no choice but to sleep in Eren's bed that night. 

 

Eventually, Armin forced himself onto his feet, barely able to fool himself into thinking that no matter what happened, it would be a good day.

 

Armin took his time getting ready that morning. He washed his hair twice, and brushed it double that. He changed his outfit every time he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror until he was almost satisfied and brushed his teeth until the brissels nearly lay flat and his gums felt numb. 

Finally, with his bag packed and slung over his shoulder, he silently padded down the staircase and snuck out the front door. 

 

A familiar figure was perched on Armin's front stoop. His hunched back faced the Arlert house as he intently picked at his nails in a studious trance. 

"Did you finally get yourself kicked out?" Armin asked softly. The effort Armin poured into trying to hide the smile in his voice was all for naught. 

Eren startled and jumped, hackles raised, until Armin's voice registered in his mind and the tension in his shoulders released. 

"You know," Eren said, spinning to lean against the stair banister, leg extended across the top stair. The porch had suffered enough dry rot to be a potential fire hazard, and Armin was surprised it hadn't caved in under their weight. "I've been out here for a while, and I half expected your mother to shoo me away with a broom like a stray animal."

"She's asleep," Armin followed his words with a breathy laugh.

Eren smirked and allowed his head to fall back against the railing. "That explains it."

Armin nodded and Eren closed his eyes with a silent yawn. 

"What are you doing here anyway? Exactly?" Armin rocked onto the balls of his feet as he chewed the inside of his cheek. 

Eren shrugged in response. "We're walking to school together."

"We are?"

"Yes," Eren moved in slow motion, unzipping his bag and removing a jacket. "I know it's November and it's cold and all that, so this time I came prepared." He tossed the jacket at Armin who barely managed to catch it without much floundering and stumbling. 

Armin formed an argument in his mind that died on his tongue. With Eren's eyes pinned on him with an expectant glint, Armin shrugged the jacket over his shoulders, pulling the fabric tight across his chest. "Okay," he said at last, "let's go."

 

Sometimes Armin wished he could bottle moments, because if he could, the walk to school would definitely be one of those worth saving. Everything felt natural. They laughed and talked and tried to nudge each other into the street. Eren bought Armin a coffee from the newly opened diner with the checkerboard walls and red leather booths.

When it came time for goodbyes, Armin's chest felt vacant. 

"We can walk home," Eren offered.

Armin almost agreed, but previous commitments paralyzed his tongue. He shook his head instead. 

Eren's forehead wrinkled in confusion, eyebrows knitting together. "What? Are you okay? Did I-"

"It's nothing." Armin said. His tone was sharp. It cut the air and wounded Eren in the process. His eyes widened and Armin had to opt for studying the grass to avoid the honest hurt Eren wore. "Marco is coming home with me after school. I- we agreed."

Pressing his lips together, Eren tried for a smile but it was contorted into a pained grimace. "That's cool, dude. Some other time, then."

Armin nodded. 

Eren gave him a thumbs up.

They parted ways. 

 

'Some other time' never actually came.

After that morning, Eren was never again found sitting on Armin's front porch. Marco had started visiting in the mornings to drive Armin to school, though. It was warmer in Marco's car than it ever had been walking with Eren, and that was the only benefit he was able to find. He clung to it. 

After school, Marco would stay with Armin for a while. They would watch TV, piece together puzzles, and help Armin's parents around the kitchen. Marco was completely at ease within Armin's family. He fit in with the best of them, able to talk politics with his father and quote biblical verses with his mother. In all aspects, he was the ideal partner.

Armin was very well aware that he should be elated when Marco would kiss him in private and shaded places around both school and home. Light would explode in his chest, but the high never lasted, generally leaving him more empty feeling than before. Thankfully, Marco never caught on, and Armin was grateful for it. 

It wasn't Marco's fault, and he didn't deserve to think it was.

 

Tenth grade bled into a monotonous stream of the same old, same old, and the summer following felt like much of the same.

Marco mostly lived with the Arlerts through the summer months. They never grew sick of one another, though. When they were together, even the most dull activities were worth doing. Marco's good-natured kindness was easy to be around. He never complained or had a bad word to say about anything or anyone. Listening to him talk felt like it should be considered a blessing. Every story had a moral or deep rooted emotional connection that made them worth listening to.

For all intents and purposes, Marco was an astounding friend. 

He had to be more than though, though, obviously. 

Of course, chores weren't the only thing they accomplished over the summer. When Armin's parents were away, which was often, they were allowed to explore more intimate sides of their relationship. When chaste kisses introduced wandering hands and fewer layers of clothes, Armin was at his happiest in the relationship. 

Marco seemed plenty pleased as well.

 

As promised, Armin's parents left in September, and, as far as he could tell, everything was going swimmingly. Occasionally, they would send packages to Armin and his grandfather with small presents and letters written in scrawling, nearly illegible handwriting. 

While opening these rare packages, Armin would wrap himself in the blanket his mother had given him ages ago. The once scratchy fabric had been worn into nothing more than a soft rag. The patterns along the cloth had faded and stitches were unraveling along the edges, but it tended to be the only tangible thing he had to hold from his parents and no matter the damage, it was worth keeping. 

 

Over the course of three months, his parents sent two post cards. Both of them expressed how much his parents loved him and missed him and was proud of him for helping his grandfather. One was written in his mother's looping handwriting and the other in his father's which would make any doctor proud. Armin framed them both.

 

On December 15th of 2005, disaster struck. The plane carrying 25 evangelistic missionaries from Nicaragua to the continental US went down in the Gulf of Mexico, only to be found when unexplained debris washed up along a Texas shore ten days later. 

That Christmas, Armin learned of his parents death, and, four day later, he attended the funeral where his family and friends buried two empty caskets. 

For the following month, Armin was scarcely found outside of his own bedroom. 

He answered no telephone calls and ignored all emails as well as MSN chat requests. He was better left alone.

Armin had grown accustomed to being away from his parents for long periods of time, but this time they were never coming home. The very thought was suffocating. His chest would close, his throat would squeeze, and his legs would give out. Most of the time, he had no will to move and lacked the strength to do anything about it.

There were no clearly drawn lines that separated days. Time passed in a series of sleeping and sitting awake to the sound of his own heartbeat before falling back into restless unconsciousness. Occasionally, while he was awake, Armin would hear Eren rap on the door until his grandfather answered. Every time he would ask to see Armin and be denied with the same tired excuse of "he's probably sleeping. Maybe tomorrow?"

Sometimes, if Armin listened closely, past the white noise in his head, he could hear pebbles being tossed against his window. If he ignored them long enough, they went away. 

 

Numbness replaced the nauseating sadness once two extra months had passed. During hours of daylight, it was easy to pretend he was okay. He didn't laugh or speak, but he walked without crumbling and falling to his knees. He brushed his hair sometimes, and showered regularly.

His personality was lost to him, but he was able to function. Everyone dubbed that as "progress." Though he disagreed, he wouldn't voice it. 

Sometime in the middle of April when flowers were blooming, trees were green, and birds had returned for the season, Marco came around.

When Armin opened the door, Marco flinched. 

"Hi," Marco stubbed the toe of his shoe against the porch they had stained months before. He spoke to the ground.

Armin nodded, slumping against the threshold. His knuckles were white from his unrelenting grip on the doorknob.

"Your grandpa called me," Marco explained as he finally raised his eyes. He looked tired. Dark purple bags ringed his eyes which had lost their fire.  

"Why?" Armin asked. His voice was painful and gruff with neglect. 

The smiling facade that Marco wore so well finally broke, and the result was something similar to seeing a knight striped of his shining armor. "He," Marco shifted his weight, "he thought maybe you might want to take their room. And if you did, he wanted me to help move furniture because he can't. I guess he thinks a change of scenery will help. I think it might, too. When my dad passed, leaving my room sometimes helped. For what it's worth."

Armin nodded, studying Marco's worn green sneakers to avoid any sort of eye contact. "Thanks, but no. I'm okay." He spoke with a resolution he didn't quite feel.

"Are you sure, Armin?"

"I'll be okay." He paused before adding an additional, "eventually."

For a long while they stayed quiet, Armin staring at Marco's shoes and Marco gazing inside of the house. 

"I can't do this," finally, Armin's voice broke like he knew it would. 

The earth stilled when Marco drew him into his arms.

"I don't want to lose you," Armin spoke into his shoulder with drool dribbling down his chin as the predictable tears fell, "I can't do this, and I don't want to lose you."

When Marco understood what Armin was referring to, the vice grip he had had on Armin loosened. 

"Oh," he whispered.

That was a tone of voice that Armin had never wanted to be the cause of. It was empty and dry. Withdrawn. Definitely not suited for a boy like Marco who was literal sunlight even on bad days. 

Armin never wanted to be involved in a break up again. No one ever warned him that being the doing to do the breaking up hurt just as much as being the one broken up with. He shouldn't have been surprised, he figured, because happiness was beyond him anyway.

"I'm sorry." Armin's words were jittery and breathless but Marco still nodded in understanding. 

"You need time to heal and not worry about a relationship. That's a lot more important." His confidence was only skin deep, and Armin was able to read him like a book. In that moment, he wished he could take those words at face value and run. 

With his face still buried deep in Marco's chest, he repeated, "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Marco replied, petting Armin's hair, "you won't. Everything will get better."

"When?" Armin was capable of nothing more than a squeak.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Marco's chin rested on the crown of Armin's head. "I don't know."

 

Exactly three days later, when the clock struck 1:30 in the morning, there was a familiar tap against Armin's window, and, in a dramatic turn of events, Armin pulled the curtains back. His own form of a reply.

Eren stood in the edges of the fluorescent glow of a nearby street lamp with pebbles cupped in his hands.

At first, he seemed completely taken aback by the movement inside the house, but when realization lit his eyes, he dropped the stones he cradled and laughed with triumph. His fist pierced the air. Armin heard him scream a loud "thank you" towards the heavens.

It took no time for Eren to scale the garden shed and hurdle across the gap separating the house from the storage building. He sat on his knees outside of Armin's window with a broad grin painted on his face and his hands knotted together in his lap. Holes were worn into the knees of his jeans. His shirt had been ripped during the speedy ascent to Armin's second story window. 

After much deliberation, Armin pushed the window open and was promptly pulled headfirst to his near-death when Eren gave him a crushing hug. The lower half of Armin's body was wedged painfully against the window sill while Eren only clung tighter, fingernails biting into his shoulders. 

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," Eren whispered, "send a fucking carrier pigeon or something, dude. Something to tell me you're okay. Anything."

Armin sat in silence. The sounds of Eren's uneven breathing, Armin's sniffling, and the choir of crickets somewhere amongst the trees, melded into the night. "I'm sorry," he whispered into Eren's shoulder, conviction was deeply rooted in his words. Tears slid down his rounded cheeks, and he quickly wiped tem away with the sleeves of his sleeping shirt.

"I don't need an apology," Eren's inflexible hold loosened, and Armin felt his shoulders sag. "I just- I've been needing to tell you. You aren't alone, okay? You have never been alone because I-," he cleared his throat, "I love you, Armin."

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and seeped into Eren's already soiled shirt. "I love you, too," he spoke through sharp breaths and coughs. "Thank you."

 

For the past three years, Armin had somehow convinced himself that Eren saying the words 'I love you' would heal all the broken pieces in his soul, destroy the darkness in his chest, and exorcise the nasty demons from his mind. His self doubt would vanish, and maybe the clouds would open and sing hallelujahs.

None of that happened, though.

Rather, it happened to be the most natural phrase to have ever been uttered. It didn't come with a grand explosion of lightening and thunder, and Armin's heart didn't explode in his chest. There was no blushing and stammering like the scenes in romance movies.

No. Life was no romantic comedy, and instead of laughing the night away in the grandeur of the evening while pondering the misadventures and tragedies of life that led them to where they were, they only sat on rough shingles and cried into one another's shoulder until the pain went away and familiar numbness took its place. 

 

"They liked you more than they let on," Armin said in a muffled mutter. 

Though Eren read through the blatant lie, he nodded anyway. 

With Eren's arms around his shoulders and his nose buried in the other boy's shoulder, Armin finally broke down. Openly. Painfully.

"I miss them so much," he whispered. 

In the dead of night, Armin's rough sobs and irregular heaves punctuated the whistle of the wind.

Cicadas sang through it all, and Eren squeezed tighter to keep his friend from unraveling at the seams.   

"I know," Eren's voice was rough and his fingers were tangled to the root in Armin's hair, "I'm so sorry. I know." 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their senior year, and Armin has to decide whether or not to make his move now, or potentially lose his chance forever. These sappy nerds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY AN UPDATE.  
> This chapter has a side of Springles and Jeanmarco. Nothing hardcore, but it's there.
> 
> It took me a while, but I think I'm pretty proud of this chapter! Let me know what you guys think, yeah?  
> I really hope you enjoy it, because I had a hell of a time writing this one.

Days faded in hazy in and outs, and the only thing that differentiated the night from day, in Armin's mind, was the fact that every night, with out fail, Eren would wait beside the window sill just in case Armin wanted company.

He always did.

Excessive late nights made Eren's grades slip, and Armin failed to offer much help as he wasn't even in school himself. When summer arrived, they both paid for their slacking.

 

The day after Mikasa, Annie, and Reiner graduated high school, summer school began, and both Armin and Eren had an invitation to attend. Armin because he'd missed the entirety of his last semester of 11th grade and had to make up for his attendance, and Eren because he cared too much about Armin and too little about academics; not in all cases though.

Naturally, Eren skipped the first day, leaving Armin to his own devices.

The walk to school was a solemn and quiet one, mostly spent lost in his own mind. As adults passed in tailored suits with their heads down, Armin dared to keep his eyes raised. He found that he met no ones eyes.

These days he barely felt the loss of his parents. Mostly their memory remained as a dull ache in the depths of his chest whenever someone would say a name or use the same perfume. 

He was okay, though. Armin was, for all intents and purposes, better. His smile had come back and slowly he was regaining the person he was before the accident. Some pieces were still lost to him; he and Marco hadn't spoken since the day of the break up, and it was difficult to look at his grandfather without being overwhelmed with the urge to cry, so he generally spent his time in his bedroom or with the Jaegers.

It was also nicer to be with Eren's family. They felt like home and older, happier times, despite Grisha rarely being around. 

His grandfather and Marco had been completely right: a change in scenery did wonders to help him move forward. Still, though, he refused to move into his parent's bedroom. The darkest and most secretive parts of him clung to the hope that maybe his parents had survived. The bodies had never been recovered, after all. That piece of his mind got a sick thrill from making him miserable; it clung to the hope that one day they would walk through the front door just like they had after every other mission trip. His mother would pinch his cheeks and suffocate him in hugs while his father stumbled in after her with gifts and luggage piled high over his head. 

It was that hope that still made him sick and drew tears to his eyes. 

As Armin neared the base of the hill leading to Maria High, it was much less terrifying than he remembered it being just a few years previous. The gaping beast the swallowed children whole and corrupted their souls was nothing more than a place of business. A job. Somewhere he went in and left seven hours later only to return the following day for the same routine. 

The forced smiles no long bothered him, and the stench of testosterone that clung to cinder block walls no long made him cringe.

Nearly four years had passed, and he'd overcome more than he'd ever fathomed. He could push through summer school as well.

Armin was sure to make the journey up the hill a short one, widening his strides and keeping his head down.

In the end, he didn't raise his eyes until he was seated in his assigned classroom. With a seat secured in the front of the room, Armin was left to busy himself with pulling notebooks, pens, and highlighters from his immaculately organized backpack. He was in a repetitive trance as he pulled objects from his bag, placed them on his desk, and turned back to retrieve something new.

He was pulled from that daze when a familiar voice called for him. 

"Hey, Arlert."

It was hard to forget the voice of a boy who was the source of so much torment in years previous, the days that separated Armin from his Freshman year were not nearly enough to erase the damage Bobby had done. Day in and day out, that voice had haunted him. The names, threats, and accusations had stuck with him far longer than he would ever admit to anyone; not even Eren knew how deep the bully had dug his roots in Armin's mind. Though he liked to convince himself he was stronger than that now, Armin still shrunk into himself at the sound of that voice. 

When the scuffling footsteps stopped just above where Armin remained leaned over his school bag, he slowly, ever so slowly, lifted his head until their eyes met. 

Surprise washed over fear when Armin recognize that Bobby wasn't angry. He didn't seem irked, annoyed, or snide. His eyes were wide, face pale. His throat bobbed when he swallowed his words three times over.

Finally, he settled for something suitable to say, and the lock he had on his jaw released. 

"I need to talk to you, Arlert." He paused and shifted his weight. "Armin."

Armin's throat had become uncomfortably dry when he rasped an uneasy, "okay."

The room was vacant aside from Armin and Bobby. Not even a teacher was to be found. No one shuffled around in the hallways or shrieked outside. Armin wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed how deathly quiet and  _empty_ the school grounds were. 

In the back of his mind, Armin feared that he may die like this.

Again, Bobby led him to be more surprised than scared.

"I need to apologize. For... yeah. I don't think there's a single thing I don't need to apologize for," the laugh he offered was nervous at best. He spoke faster to cover the nerves, "But, I'm mostly sorry about your parents. I-" he cleared his throat and shifted again. His gaze found the dusty lenolium floor. "My dad," he said, "he died when I was in seventh grade, and mom went off the fucking deep end, you know? Like full on mental, man. Soon they packed me up and stuffed me into the foster care system. I-" he stopped himself with a shallow sigh, "it doesn't matter. You shouldn't care. I'm just saying that I know what it's like. Uh, losing both parents at the same time. It's... yeah. It's not good.

But, uh, when I was in foster care they paired me up with this weird ass therapist who probably never even graduated high school. I didn't listen to much of what she said, mostly because I think she was literally bat shit crazy, but uh, there was one thing she told me to do. It helped. Basically, you just write out what you're feeling. Like you're gonna send a letter to the person you lost, you know? You know you'll never send it, and they'll never read it, and you feel like a jack ass while writing it but," he shrugged, "you get out... you know... emotions and shit. I guess."

Armin smiled, but Bobby failed to see it as he swiveled his head when the front doors of the school opened and loud voices poured in through the halls. Suddenly, he stopped scuffing his sneakers against the tile and stood straighter. Moment over.

"Yeah, okay. That's it. I'm done."

When he moved to place a hand on Armin's shoulder, Armin instinctively winced and angled himself away from the blow. Bobby dropped his hand before ever making contact, and a sad smile pulled at the corners of his lips before he dragged himself back to his lonely corner of the room. 

 

There wasn't a single time when Armin had ever considered taking advice from the one person who made his freshman year a living hell, but that night, Armin found himself seated at his old desk with five notebooks splayed open to empty pages, and he wrote.

He wrote until his fingers were numb and smudged with blackened graphite. He wrote until his wrist ached, his head pounded, and his cheeks itched from the remnants of dry tears. 

At one point, somewhere near one in the morning, his grandfather told him to turn off his light and get some rest, so he lit a candle and wrote until the candle had all but burned its entire wick.

He ended each letter with the same signature, scrawled in looped cursive that wobbled on high arches.

 _I'll love you always_ , he signed past bleary eyes.

_Yours Truly_

 

Eren was on the front porch the following morning, eyes closed and stretched across the refinished wood.

"You working on your tan?" Armin asked as the front door clicked closed.

"Don't need one," Eren barely moved his lips and his words smeared, "I'm already golden perfection."

Armin sighed, and readjusted his bag on his shoulder, fingers clenching and loosening around the ratty strap, "One out of two isn't so bad."

The sly smirk Eren wore made Armin squirm where he stood. His eyes were still closed, though, and Armin rejoiced in the small victories.

"So, which one am I, Armin? Golden or perfection?"

"We need to go," Armin stepped over the spot where Eren lay, "we're going to be late."

Eren grunted as he hauled himself onto his feet and stretched with his arms held high over his head. "Chill, dude. Only the slackers go to summer school. Being on time isn't that important."

"I'm not a slacker, and I don't want to be late."

"Maybe not," Eren shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "but you're friends with one. You want coffee?"

"Eren-"

"I feel like coffee," he walked ahead, shoes crunching on uneven gravel. When he looked over his shoulder and caught Armin's eye, Armin felt his heart spark and knock against his ribs. The way the glint of the morning sun caught his eyes should have been illegal. They shined like precisely cut gems and made Armin melt into his core.

"Coffee sounds okay," he squeaked, shuffling to catch up to Eren's strides. 

 

"Alright man," Eren said once he'd ordered and paid. Armin had earnestly tried to pay for his own. Three separate times, he'd waved cash in front of Eren's face, shoved it into his hands, and pressed it against his chest with a litany of the word please.

When all else failed, he tried to hand the wad of cash to the barista himself. Without a moment's hesitation, Eren plucked the folded singles from Armin's fingers and clamped an arm around Armin's torso.

The proximity to Eren made breathing difficult and he could feel his face becoming an embarrassing shade of pink.

"What?" Armin asked, bowing his head and tucking it beneath Eren's arm.

A cluster of women in the corner of the shop caught Armin's eye; one of the ladies in particular wore a suggestive smile that confirmed just how the scene looked. Armin wondered if Eren knew just how much they resembled a happy couple. 

Eren bowed his head until his lips all but touched the shell of Armin's ear. "Golden or perfect?"

"Definitely golden."

"You know, I recall you saying I needed to work on my tan."

"Shut the hell up," Armin bit.

With a snort, Eren squeezed Armin in their one armed embrace and pushed a coffee against his chest. "Cool, let's go to class. Slacker."

Armin definitely didn't squeak when Eren slid the cash into his back pocket and, finally, relinquished his grip.

 

Somehow, Armin managed to force Eren to go to school every day without fail until it became less of a chore and more of a chance to spend time with one another. Every morning was spent at the coffee shop, and the afternoons allowed time for Armin to drape himself across Eren's bed and watch as Eren killed whatever the enemy was for his game of the day. 

"You wanna play?" Eren offered near the end of the summer, holding his controller in the air.

Armin rolled onto his stomach and propped himself on his elbows, smirk in place.

"Your trusting me with your controller? I thought you loved this thing more than you loved life itself."

Eren shrugged. "I do. Annie doesn't even get to play. Not that she really cares I guess..." He shrugged, "still, you get special rights."

"I'll take what I can get," Armin said, snatching the device from Eren's hand. 

"Don't fuck up my score, either." He warned.

Armin laughed and paused the screen. "What if I do better than you?"

Eren raised an eyebrow and huffed a silent and humorless laugh. "Yeah, right."

"You never know," Armin almost sang.

"I do know." Eren climbed onto his bed and took a seat next to his friend. Armin's personal space ended where his shoulder stopped and Eren's hip began, both of them being pressed together. "Show me what ya got."

The show didn't last long, as Armin's character died within the span of a minute.

"Okay, I may need you to teach me how to play," Armin relented, cheeks rosy and lower lip swollen from brutal biting and chewing.

"I get to teach you something!" Eren cheered, quickly re-positioning himself to reach around Armin. Gingerly, he placed his hands on top of where Armin's rested. Armin could feel Eren's heartbeat and hear his steady breathing. Eren taught all he could, but Armin couldn't quite focus.

He was a lost cause, yet he didn't want to be saved. Not yet. Not when they could be this close. This tactile. 

If that was his reward for being lost, he couldn't say he minded at all.

When the heat of Eren's hands disappeared, Armin's train of thought found its tracks once again. 

"Got it?" Eren asked, beaming with pride from his apparent award winning explanation.

"I got it," Armin spared a quick glance to Eren's face and found that it didn't help his focus in the slightest. "Now I'm ready to kick your butt."

"Sure," Eren rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back. The box springs cried under their combined weight, and Armin nearly did the same when he felt Eren's hand snake into his hair and latch onto a lock to tug on. "You gonna make a move or what?"

"Huh?" Armin twisted around, eyes wide and jaw feeling widely unhinged.

"The game. You've been sitting like that for a couple minutes now. You gonna do something or no?"

"Oh," Armin's felt his face fall before he could completely turn away. The melodrama that ate away at his chest had made its grand re-entrance. "Yeah, I just got lost in thought." He confirmed.

"Go figure," Eren's knee nudged Armin's thigh.

"Yeah."

Playfully, Armin knocked Eren's leg away with a flick of his wrist. Truth be told, the contact sent a wildfire streaming through his veins and lighting his vital organs making it impossible to sit still and contain himself.

Better safe than sorry, he figured.

 

During the week before school returned for the fall semester, Annie came to visit. A lot. 

She and Mikasa were intending to move out to a new college in a matter of three weeks, so she all but lived there. It was like revisiting the summer before ninth grade. 

A few things had changed though. For one, Armin found that he was locked out of Eren's room a lot more than he was allowed in it. Eren would drag his girlfriend behind the locked door by the hand, all laughs and smiles while Mikasa would pretend to gag on the spot next to Armin.

The couch cushion she clung to had scars from her nails tearing the fabric.

"Are you okay?" Armin asked softly.

Rather than answering, she tilted her head and grey met vibrant blue. "Are you?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Armin's eyes wandered to the painting hanging just behind where Mikasa sat. It was probably purchased from a garage sale or department store. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Though she didn't say anything, her knowing expression said it all. The arch of her eyebrow and the taut line of her lips was exactly what a deadpanned tone would look like. 

In their unspoken staring contest, stifled moans and the repetitive bang that Armin recognized as Eren's headboard meeting the nearest wall.

"Gross," Mikasa groaned, reaching for the television remote and increasing the volume until it was blaring.

Armin nodded his agreement. "Thank you."

She hummed, propping her chin on the pillow she clung to. Armin studied her profile before turning to watch the program she'd settled on. 

"You know, Armin," she said, still consumed by reality tv, "you should tell Eren some time this year."

"Tell him?"

She nodded, twirling a loose thread from the pillow sham around her pointer finger lazily. "That you wish you were Annie."

"I-"

"Please don't deny it. I'm not going to run in there and squeal if that's what you're worried about. I just know that you're not... happy with how things turned out. And, to be honest, I'm not sure that I am either." Her voice was far softer than what Armin had grown accustomed to. Under normal circumstances, she was all hard edges and stone cold promises. He'd almost forgotten that she was gentle as well. She could be frightening, but she had never been anything but kind to him. She cared. She cared about his well being and worried about the things that concerned him.

He cracked a smile for the first time that night; the television's soft glow was too low for her to actually see the ghost of it, though. "I'll think about it," he whispered. 

"Tell me how it goes."

"I didn't say I'd do it!" He said in a panic. "I'll just think about it!"

"Armin, look at it this way," she finally turned to face him, stretching her legs until her socked feet rested in his lap. Her grey eyes were piercing.

"This can go one of two ways, right?" She held up two finger for him to see in the darkness, "Either, you tell him and he rejects you. But it's the summer after senior year, once you move to college, you'll likely never have to see him again" she pressed a finger down, "or the second option, the option I'm banking on, you tell him, and he kisses you like he's wanted to for years. You both finally do something to make yourselves happy. The end." Her hand fell against the worn leather sofa. "But that's just my two cents."

When Eren's bedroom door creaked open, Mikasa ended her advice giving swiftly. The kind words died as quickly as they sprung up. "Whichever one of you it is," she warned, "you better have clothes on."

"What are you gonna do if I don't?" Eren bit as he entered light given off by the television.

He was dressed at least. 

"Do you really want to go there?" She asked, and he stood down. 

With his shoulders slumped, he brushed her off. "Hey, Armin, Annie's asleep, so you wanna hang down stairs and watch some movies or something?"

Armin felt Mikasa's eyes nailing the back of his head, and his anxiety spiked. He needed out.

"No, thanks though. I'm not feeling well. I was just waiting around to tell you good night, and I'll see you at school."

"What?" Even in the dim lighting of the den, Armin could see Eren chewing on his lip, hands knotted together at his waist. "Are you sure? We have medicine."

"Yeah," Armin pushed himself onto his feet and took Eren into a one-armed hug. "Maybe Mikasa will watch movies with you since you have clothes on and all that."

Eren's finger dug into Armin's back like claws when he pulled Armin closer. "Yeah, maybe."

Though Armin winced, he was able to bite back the pain long enough to give a quick goodnight, grab his things, and bail across the street. 

The rest of his night was spent on the roof, picking apart the shingles and watching how the sand would fall in the manufactured light of the street lamp.

From the neighboring house, Armin could hear an outdated laugh track and the room he and Mikasa has previously occupied still blinked with light as a film rolled.

Part of him wanted to run back across the street and squish himself between the siblings, eyes trained on the old box television that had a tendency to go out until Eren hit it a few good times.

Armin was sure that Eren would take no prompting to eagerly fill him in on what he'd missed, and they'd all fall asleep piled on top of one another only to wake with sore necks and numb limbs. Instead, though, he remained where he sat and chose victimized another tile, throwing its dust into the night until the sun peaked over the horizon and the noise from the neighboring house had completely died away. 

 

Remaining true to his word, Armin never went back onto the Jaeger property as the last of the summer came to an end, and, reversely, Annie never left it. But, when the second Monday of August rolled around, the first day of school, Eren was banging on Armin's front door before the clock had even struck eight. 

Armin allowed the other boy inside as he gathered the last of his things.

"It's senior year!" Eren exclaimed, falling backwards onto the suede couch that had seen better days.

Armin hummed, opting to settle for the shoes beside the door rather than running up stairs to his room to retrieve a better matching pair. "Have you decided what you're doing after this year?"

Immediately, Eren deflated. "Don't ruin this for me, dude."

"It's important to think about, Eren," Armin chided, "what do you think you _want_ to do?"

Eren's stealth in avoiding conversation he didn't approve of was second to none. "I  _want_ to go get coffee."

Armin only sighed as he was literally dragged out of the front door. 

 

Senior year was no different than any other year, and Armin really wasn't sure why he'd be expecting otherwise. The people remained the same, though Connie and Sasha were going through a series of off and on dating. The education was still sub-par, and he gained no more respect because of his status. 

The only drastic change was the fact that Eren joined him at lunch again. He walked him to classes, and waited for him outside after the final bell, offering to walk him home. With Annie graduated and gone for college, their friendship had settled back into the comfortable realms of what they had known before dating other people was ever an option. 

Every so often, Mikasa would send a text to ask if he'd confessed his undying love. When he would reply with a dull "no," she would send a less-than-entertained "ugh." The cycled continued in the same way.

 

In the winter, Eren took on his job as elf again, and Armin made sure to visit him every day, toting along bagged snacks and warm drinks for all of his coworkers. 

"I think they all like  _you_ better than they like me," Eren once said over a thermos of hot chocolate, "they're probably all planning on how to steal you away in the dead of night and make you their bride." The smirk the cast over the rim of the cup made Armin bite his cheek.

"Who could blame them?" Armin shrugged.

"Not me," Eren dropped a casual line, "it's because you bake well, dude."

"Just because I bake well?" Armin decided to push his luck. Delicately, he folded his legs beneath himself on the concrete bench painted a horrid color of green. Faux poinsettia plants poked him in the back every time he moved. 

"What?" Eren asked, "want me to tell you you're pretty, too? Please."

" _Jaeger!"_ Santa barked from across the mall, waving him over wildly, "we have pictures to take. Date over."

Eren laughed through his nose, and Armin almost swore his face had darkened at the claim. "Well, you heard the man," he offered the thermos over to Armin's waiting hands, "date over."

"See you tomorrow?" Armin asked as he collected all of his things and placed them strategically in his cramped picnic basket. 

"Same time, same place," the elf confirmed before dashing across the mall and nearly trampling a small child in the process. He backpedaled and offered a handful of miniature candy canes as reconciliation, and immediately the sniffling stopped. When Eren heard Armin laugh, he looked up deliberately and offered a shy smile before walking the rest of the distance to the North Pole. Two other elves had gathered, waiting for him to return, and Santa continued on his temper tantrum.

 

The week of Christmas, Annie and Mikasa had returned home from school, and Armin suddenly preferred staying cooped inside with his grandfather. 

They played board games and watched game shows to kill time. Armin tried to teach his grandfather the art of texting, to no avail, and they set up their first Christmas tree in years. It was flimsy and under-decorated to a point where to bordered on pitiful, but Armin still loved it, and his grandfather lit up brighter than the North Star every time he got to turn the lights on.

In his spare time, Armin wrote his parents.

 

_Mom,_

_You'd really love it at home right now. We have a Christmas tree, and grandpa made a wreath. It's not quite a circle, but you'd say that makes it even better, right?_

_There's something bothering me right now, and it's not about the Christmas decorations, I love those. You always loved Christmas, so I'm taking after you here, but it's something else. You remember Eren? The Jaeger boy across the street who you swore could never be a good example? Yeah, him. I think I love him, mom. Actually, I know I do. I saw how you used to look at dad. Those hidden smiles that neither of you knew you were wearing just because you were with each other. That's how Eren makes me feel. I'm so confused, and even more conflicted. I know you'd probably hate me for even thinking like this, but you're my mom. And you need to know. Break it to dad in the kindest way possible, will you?_

_I have to ask you, though, how did dad confess his love to you? How did you two become anything more than friends? It's been almost seven years, and I'm not any closer to being anything more than just a friend to him._

_I need help. Any kind of help, really. I swear you'd like him now. He's taller and more handsome. He has a job, too. You'd really like him, mom. I swear you would. He'd make you proud._

_I'll love you always,_

_Yours Truly_

 

 _P.S: I know you're wondering how Marco is doing. He's looking as handsome as ever, and he's just fine. I think he and Jean may have something going on, but I'll keep you updated on that. Turns out everyone these days is a little gay. Talk about your worst nightmare, right?_  

 

All of the letter contained the same content, only worded differently. Children were supposed to have their parents for guidance, instead Armin had their ghosts living in letters that he stuffed in a shoe box for safe keeping until it overflowed.

He didn't know what he was doing, and there was no one who could really help him out, either. 

 

Christmas Eve landed on a Wednesday that year. Since the loss of his parents, Christmas had been his least favorite time of the year. Rather than cooking and watching sappy Halmark movies with his grandfather, Armin planted himself face down on his mattress and waited for the two days to pass, the faster the better. 

Around noon that day, a familiar tap sounded at his window followed by another, and yet another after that. The excitement that boiled in his stomach was embarrassing, but he at least took his time in peeling back the blinds. 

Eren sat on the roof, back pressed against the dusty paneling and feet hanging over the edge of the roof. Armin had to poke his head out of the window to fully see Eren's face.

"Hi," Armin croaked. 

"You've been crying," Eren noted, casting him a sidelong glance. 

Armin ducked back inside the window and dabbed at his face with the sleeves of his shirt. "Sorry," he muttered into the fabric. 

"No," Eren dismissed him, "I figured you'd be upset. That's why I didn't know if you wanted company. If not, I can go home. But, like, if you change your mind you know where to find me."

"Where's Annie?"

Eren shrugged. "I think Mikasa took her shopping or something. She's the one who told me to come over here."

Armin wrinkled his nose i disbelief. "Annie did?"

"Fuck no," Eren almost laughed, "my sister."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

When their friendly silence rolled on, Armin finally decided to join Eren's side outside. 

"You really did a job on these shingles, dude," Eren brushed his fingers of the the remains of the roof tiles.

"Nervous habit, I guess."

Eren took the answer at face value, choosing not to prod and poke for a deeper explanation. When Armin leaned into his side, he neither stiffened or hesitated, rather he pulled him in closer and ran a soothing hand along Armin's upper arm. 

"Maybe before school comes back we can go ice skating," he offered, "I think I know how to stand now."

"You do?" Armin's tone was hushed. His throat was sore from being battered by the cold wind, but Eren was so warm. 

"Nah," Eren smiled while tilting his head against the side of the house, "but you can at least get a kick out of me busting my ass."

"That's my favorite pass time," Armin agreed.

Eren snorted. "Shut up."

 

On January 3rd, school was back in session, and in the same day, Armin was told he would be valedictorian for the graduating class. 

"You'll need to make a speech," Principal Smith explained as they trekked the school corridors after hours, "it should be around three minutes long and absolutely no longer than five. It has to pertain to your educational growth as well as giving some sort of motivational push for the other students to excel in their choices after high school. That shouldn't be too hard for you," he offered a kind smile that flashed brilliantly whitened teeth, "I've been told from a few of the students here that you're an excellent tutor and speaker."

"What?" Armin hadn't meant to interrupt, but it was inevitable. "Who?"

Principal Smith wore his kindest smile well, and the clicking of his soles echoed through the empty hallways. With hands clamped behind his back, he chuckled. "Eren Jaeger and I have had quite a few run ins as you can imagine."

Armin blushed. "Oh."

"Yes, indeed, and you seem to be his favorite person to discuss."

"I-" Words were lost on Armin's tongue, and thoughts died away in flashes on light before the even formed into coherent sentences. He wondered what Eren said about him or how he looked when he talked. He wondered if that light in his eyes gleamed brighter or if that cheeky smile grew any at all. While lost in thought, Armin stumbled over his own feet. "Oh." _Way to really prove those communication skills,_ his mind screamed.

"Anyway," the principal nodded, moving his hands from behind his back and into the pockets of his khaki slacks. "You'll be just fine. If you have any concerns, please feel free to visit me, or leave a note with the secretary, and I'll find you. Do you have any questions that need addressing immediately?"

"No, sir," Armin said without giving it any real thought. Eren waited for him just outside the school gates, and he was itching to leave campus. He hiked his torn backpack up higher on his shoulders, it was the same one he'd used from the beginning of his Freshman year, prepared to bail in a matter of seconds. 

The principal hummed. "Great. That'll be it then, I suppose. Good luck, and have a great remaining semester, Mr. Arlert."

"Thank you," Armin smiled, spinning on his heels, "you, too!"

His backpack knocked against his lower back and propelled him forward as he raced for the door. Behind him, Principal Smith gave a hearty laugh. 

 

"You're writing the speech about me, right?" Eren asked the moment the double doors closed securely in Armin's wake. 

"Yes," Armin confirmed, latching onto Eren's arm and pulling him down the steep slope of the hill that was desperately in need of an appointment with a lawn mower, "the entire thing is gong to be titled  _Eren Jaeger: Humanity's Greatest Guy."_

"I think I deserve something more heroic and eye catching, honestly," he hooked his thumb in the front belt loops of his jeans and offered a shrug. Under the blaring sun, a soft sheen had formed on his brow. The light bounced off the bleached cement that made up the sidewalks downtown.

Armin, though squinting, rolled his eyes, figuring he had no choice but to take Eren's bait. "And what would you suggest?"

Suddenly, Eren stopped walking and rocked onto his heels with his hands pushed in front of his line of sight as if he was seeing his name in lights. " _Eren Jaeger,"_ he said dramatically, " _Humanity's Last Hope."_

"You are so full of shit," Armin giggled before Eren elbowed him in the ribs with a smile that curled his lips in a lopsided fashion. Armin felt the sun shift closer to earth and the collar of his shirt stuck to his neck.

"Don't dash a man's dreams before they've had time to fly," Eren complained, though his unbridled laughter gave him away. 

"Now I'm not even going to write it about you," Armin said, feigning dramatic indifference. 

"Dude, come on."

"No."

"Damn."

Eren truly knew how to put up a valiant fight. 

 

"I figured out what I'm gonna do" Eren said two weeks later from his perch on his bed while Armin tried, without much success, to learn navigational controls for Eren's newest video game. It was out of the blue; a thought that Armin hadn't considered in months. "With my future, I mean."

"Yeah?"Armin asked, laying the game controller gingerly by his side. In the background, his character gave a grunt signaling his fatality. Loud music confirm his failure, blaring through the tv's speakers. Eren muted it.

"Yeah," he confirmed, yanking at a lose string that stitched his comforter together. Both his hands and eyes were occupied, and his lower lip was worked between his teeth. Armin sighed at the tension that pulled at his shoulders and created deep lines in his young face .

"Well," Armin's voice was cautious, "you don't seem thrilled about it."

Eren shrugged. "My English teacher has been inviting guests to tell us about colleges and careers and shit, you know? None of it really clicked, cause school's not my bag."

Nodding, Armin, too, found that it easier to focus on the string that Eren meticulously picked at from his vantage point on the floor. 

"She invited an Army recruiter last class."

Eren heard the breath catch in Armin's throat, and when he raised his gaze, he was finally able to rip the loose thread away from the stitching. 

"I talked to him after class. He's gonna help me sign up next Monday."

"I-"

"You don't have to worry about me, man. I know you. You're gonna worry. But, don't. Now, I'll get paid, and I'll have a future just like you." Eren's smile was flooded with hope, but his eyes seemed glassy and unbelieving. They refused to share in the smile that tugged at his features just a smidgen too tight. 

Armin didn't know what expression he wore, because he couldn't quite determine how he felt. Mostly, his mind was blank and his chest felt oddly vacant. "Does Annie know?"

"She's not happy," Eren confirmed. "She told me not to even think about it, because she's like you sometimes. She worries. A lot."

"Rightfully." Armin never thought he'd side with her, but life was full of surprises it seemed. 

Eren nodded. "I'm not like you guys," he shrugged before falling back across his bed, "I don't do the whole college thing. This is for the best, y'know? I can go to school while I'm there. I don't have to have a gun."

"But you're going to, aren't you?"

It wasn't a question. The end was flat. Armin knew just as well as Eren did.

Pressing his lips together until they were bleached white, Eren only offered another shrug. 

Armin released a long breath that uncoiled the tension in his chest. It burned as it unraveled. "It's your future," Armin studied his hands as he spoke, "as long as you're safe, I want you to do whatever makes you feel accomplished, and I'll back it 110%."

"So you're okay with it?"

"I don't like it," Armin shook his head, "but that's to be expected, right? I know I can't stop you, though. You never wanted to go to college; this is perfect for you."

Slowly, the nervous hesitance that clouded Eren's eyes dissipated. "Thanks, Armin."

Armin huffed a laugh he didn't quite mean as he reached for the forgotten gaming controller. "Just teach me how to win this, yeah?"

With an eager nod, Eren flipped onto his stomach and propped his chin on Armin's shoulder as he guided him through controls. Months had passed since they'd last been in this position, yet Armin still couldn't quite catch is breath.  

 

When he wasn't with Eren, Armin generally filled his free time with practicing his valedictorian speech. In days of old, he'd always imagined that these sorts of things would be practiced in front his his parents until his father had fallen asleep and his mother stealthily tried to read or watch television as he repeated the same script for the thirtieth time in a single night. 

Of course, that dream wasn't quite feasible anymore, but that didn't stop him from reading and reciting to their headstones until dusk settled and consumed the sun, and he could no longer read from his notes. 

Sometimes when it was too cold to sit out in the open, he would write to them instead. The pages were filled with his fears of stumbling or stammering or forgetting the entire English language. No matter what, though, his parents were included in every word he spoke and wrote alike. It helped to ease his nerves. 

Eventually, April rolled around with new flower blossoms, warmer winds, and the dread of prom. 

 

"Come on, dude," Eren said as he literally shoved Armin into the passenger seat of his hatchback that leaked more oil than a rig, and broke down with more reliability than it cranked. The paint was made mostly of rust, but Eren was unfailingly proud of the vehicle he'd paid for with his own savings. "We're going to the mall."

"Why?" Armin scoffed. 

"Tuxedos?"

"No?"

"Look, when going to prom, you have to look at least somewhat decent. That's the rule."

"I wasn't planning on going anyway," Armin confessed, knotting his fingers together.

Eren wasn't having that. "You're going with me."

"Didn't you ask Annie?"

"Though there is a rule about dressing appropriately," Eren said, drumming his fingers against the wheel to an unheard beat -the radio only produced static-, "there isn't a single one about not having two dates. The more dates, the higher on the food chain you are."

"I'm pretty sure we're below vegetation on the high school food chain."

"And maybe, after prom, we will finally be on the same level as the plants. You're getting out of this."

"I know," Armin sighed, brushing his hair from his eyes. 

Eren laughed, cranking the static up louder until a vocalist could be heard through white noise. "Don't get too excited, man. The fun's just getting started."

 

Tuxedo shopping with Eren wasn't unbearable, just agonizingly long. The other boy spent most of his time picking out a cummerbund and holding it up to eight different shades of black to decide exactly what would look best on his friend while Armin stood, arms crossed, in the dressing room awaiting Eren's selection.

Finally,  _finally_ , Eren pulled the curtain back and extended his final choice. The color was that of rich emeralds found in select jewelry stores; the ones where one had to practically sweat dollar bills to be allowed access into. It was an exact replica of the deepest color in Eren's soft eyes. 

He held it out further. 

"Try it," he said, "it looks best with that shade, I think."

"Eren, aren't you color blind?"

Armin laughed when Eren pressed a finger to his lips.

 

"It's perfect," Eren smiled the very moment Armin had fully dressed and barely pulled the curtain back. 

"You think?" Armin hid his flushed face by admiring his own attire. 

"I know," his friend nodded, "okay, go ahead and change. I'm gonna pay."

"No!" Armin stumbled over the hem of his own pants as he clamored out of the changing stall. "Not a chance."

"That's what dates do, dude," Eren brushed him off and swerved through a maze of display mannequins, leaving Armin alone with jaw unhinged and cheeks furiously dusted pink. 

"It's not an actual date," he finally said, voice flimsy.

Armin barely caught the rise and fall of Eren's shoulders. His heart swelled and he retreated back to the enclosed space of his dressing room. The smile he wore couldn't be hidden from the 180 degree mirror, and by that token he only blushed harder. 

 

Prom arrived just three weeks later. The city as filled with teenagers dressed to the nines in ballroom gowns and tuxedos costing more than a month's worth of rent. Because Annie had showed up at Eren's house that afternoon, Armin walked himself to the civic center. Though it was generally a building used to house old white men who made bad decisions for the sake of the town, the school had redecorated it so that it was suitable for a proper ball. 

The high school was much too small and dingy to compare. 

The sun sat on the horizon, and the sky blazed in heated oranges and pinks as Armin walked. Groups of girls laughed as they stumbled in their heels, hiking up uneven sidewalks as equally giddy boys clung to them trying to keep them on their feet. Armin offered smiles as they passed. 

Just outside the civic center, Marco and Jean leaned against brick pillars, chatting and chuckling easily. Armin feared that upon his approach the air would turn dry and harder to breath, effectively choking away all of their joy. He debated crossing the street for a long while with hands in his pockets, watching as others walked right on by. Once he tired of being The Invisible Man, he built up the nerve to join his friends.

Instead of the awkwardness he'd expected, he was surprised when Jean looped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into his side, and Marco, too, offered a pleasant hello paired with a one armed hug. He hovered over Armin, and it was impossible not to bury his face into Marco's chest while squeezing his waist with an iron grip. 

Connie and Sasha were the next couple to join their small gathering. Music blared inside the civic center. People laughed and cheered, as well as spoke over the boom of the speakers loud enough to be heard outside. 

"Look at that," Jean said upon their arrival, "Sasha managed to get a boyfriend."

"Shut up," Sasha laughed, long ruffled dress swaying around her long legs, 'looks like you did, too."

"What?" It was only then that Jean seemed to notice that he still had a hold on Armin's shoulders. Still, he didn't pull away. "Oh, no. No, not Armin."

"He's got a hard on for Marco," Connie clarified, and Marco went bug eyed. Armin and Jean got a good chuckle out of it, at least. 

"Do not, man," Jean said, shoving him with his free hand. 

Connie arched an eyebrow with visible disbelief. "Yeah, we'll see about that  _after_ prom."

"Well..." Jean shrugged.

The smile that quirked Jean's lips and the deep blush Marco wore was confirmation enough for Armin. They were definitely dating. 

He was happy that Marco was happy, at least. 

 

Eren was late. Very late. So late, in fact, that Sasha was on her fifth visit to the refreshment table, and Jean and Marco had found their own secluded table in the midst of the discarded high heels of an entire army of women. 

"Where's Jaeger?" Connie asked, peeling open the wrapper of a Hershey's chocolate kiss. 

Armin shrugged, rubbing a thumb over the emerald green cummerbund Eren had chosen. "I don't know."

"He'll get here," Connie said, sucking melted chocolate from his thumb before reaching for another. "He's never really on time for anything."

With a weak smile, Armin nodded though his heart sank further with disappointment. 

 

With an hour and a half till midnight, Eren finally shower up, hair a ruffled mess and shit only half way tucked in. Annie wasn't by his side. 

His eyes grazed the crowds, as he chewed the inside of his cheek. The further his gaze moved, the more he deflated, until those gems landed on Armin. 

Connie had left Armin's company half an hour before when Sasha had had her fill of finger sandwiches and cookies and finally asked to dance. Connie happily obliged wih a quick "sorry man" before disappearing on the dance floor and leaving Armin unbearably alone.

He nearly jumped out of his seat with excitement when he saw Eren marching towards him. 

"I'm late," he said as a breathless hello.

Armin gave a verifying nod as he tried, fruitlessly, to tame Eren's hair with his fingers. His dark eyebrows pinched in concentration until it became clear that it was a lost cause. 

"What happened to that rule about looking decent?" Armin asked. "What happened?"

"Told Annie I signed with the Army. They already set my date for Basic Training and everything."

"She wasn't happy?"

"Nah," Eren said, finally realizing that the tail of his shirt was still free. Sparing a quick glance to check for bystanders, he shoved it beneath the waist of his pants. Though his tie was crooked, he was almost presentable. Armin tweaked it until it was centered, and Eren's smile was nothing but earnestly grateful. 

"So, what happened?" Armin asked, offering a seat which Eren took wordlessly. 

"Broke up with me," he propped his chin in his raised palm. "But not before arguing and calling me every name in the book."

Armin frowned and toyed with the starch white tablecloth between slender fingers. The shimmery confetti that had be unceremoniously sprinkled along the table tops fell away from the portion Armin had raised. He watched them pool in small clusters, and Eren did as well. 

"So," Armin said, "you only have one date now, huh? Sorry you can't get up higher on the food chain, Eren."

"It's cool," Eren waved the thought away, leaning back dangerously in his chair, "I got to keep my date of choice, anyway."

"Ouch. Favoritism. Maybe that's why she left."

Eren smiled that same hollow smile that made the pit of Armin's stomach feel empty. "You're probably not wrong."

Without warning, Eren stood. The chair slid loudly against linoleum. His hand was outstretched. "The night is still salvageable." 

"Oh yeah?" Armin asked, oblivious. "I'm glad."

The hollow smile became warmer when Eren extended his hand further. "Totally. Wanna dance with me?"

Armin hadn't been paying much mind to the music, most of it was pop that he didn't listen to regularly enough to know any of the lyrics, but now it has slowed down dramatically. Instead of jumping and grinding, people swayed to and fro on the hardwood dance floor as soft white lights swept over them. 

"Yeah, okay, Eren," Armin laughed, resting his forearms against the table top. Glitter stuck to his sleeves. When Eren didn't move away, Armin felt his eyes become wide. "Wait. What? You're not serious are you?"

"As a heart attack," he replied, flattening his palm and beckoning Arming with his fingers. "Come on, man. We only have an hour left."

 

Armin's eyes didn't leave the ground when Eren confidently led him to the floor; they meshed seamlessly along with the rest of the swaying teenagers. Eren easily pulled Armin against his chest with an arm draped over his shoulders. The connected hand toyed with the ends of Armin's hair. 

It was immediately clear that neither of them knew how to dance. They stepped on one another's feet more than the dance floor.

"Stand on my feet," Eren laughed as he pressed a hand to Armin's lower back.

"No," Armin hissed.

"Armin."

Groaning and seeing no other options, Armin took hesitant steps onto Eren's toes. Suddenly, dancing was simple and required no thought. Everything that had rampaged through Armin's mind vanished, and there was only Eren. Eren with his nose buried in the crown of Armin's hair and his hand pressed securely against his lower back. Armin could barely hear the song they swayed to, likely he'd never hear it again anyway. 

With time, people began to leave dancing behind, finding tables or gathering their shoes to begin on their journeys home. But, Eren and Armin remained. They danced to the same tempo through both fast and slow paced songs until the DJ began to pack up and staff took to tearing decorations off walls. 

"We can go to my house," Eren offered when Armin backed away, lip caught between his teeth to hide his undeniable smile.

"Okay," Armin whispered.

As they moved towards the door long after throngs of teenagers had flooded out, there was a whistle from the back of the room. 

Armin whipped his head around. Jean sat with Connie; Marco was elsewhere, probably helping with the cleaning process. Connie gave a loud howl and a thumbs up that attracted a few eyes from teachers while Jean nearly doubled over. With a roll of his eyes, Eren dragged Armin outside with a flash of his middle finger. "Fuck you guys," he said as a substitute for goodbye. 

 

They talked little for the rest of night, rather they fell across Eren's bed and fell into a silent sleep pressed against one another. 

When Armin felt Eren's arms encircle him, he didn't utter a word. Rather, unconsciousness took him with the wide smile he wore dancing on his lips. 

 

Graduation day came two and a half weeks later, and for all his preparation, Armin had never felt more nervous in his entire life. 

He woke at an ungodly hour that morning, somewhere around 4:45. In his downtime, he repeated his speech four times to the box of letters he'd written his his parents, and once he'd done that he added two more letters to the ever-growing pile. 

He would have to thank Bobby some day, he figured. 

 

The ceremony was much shorter than Armin had figured, and his time to speak came sooner than he wanted to stomach. He nearly tripped while walking on stage, but his grip on his note cards was relentless, so he carried on undeterred.

Thousands of eyes watched as he took center stage. The microphone crackled while students and parents alike waited patiently for his opening words. Principal Smith gave the 'go ahead' nod.

Armin didn't remember his tie feeling like a noose. 

"Change is inevitable," he spoke, eyes never leaving the crowd though his hands shook from holding his notes too firmly. "It's inevitable, but inevitability isn't a bad thing. Becoming a freshman was without a doubt one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. It was easy to become complacent in where I was in life. Complacency is the real thing we should fear; change helps us to overcome. It builds us up as humans, and breaks us to make strong people of us all.

From year to year, my life - all of our lives - have changed dramatically. Not only do we look much better," there were a few laughs in the crowd, "we know more. We've seen more of the world. We hope to know what to expect from the future. We've made friends, and broken friendships, and we've learned from them all. As most of you know, I lost my parents about two years ago, and that's the most dramatic change I've ever known. But, without that, I wouldn't know what it is to stand on my own. I wouldn't know how to cope with the wrong that life can force feed us. That's a valuable lesson. Of course, I miss them terribly, but I've embraced what life has to be now. I encourage you all to do the same.

Life is not giving or compassionate, but it wants to see us grow. After today, our lives will change yet again, and then in a few months, we'll face another planned change. We don't know what tomorrow holds. Maybe some of us will hit the lottery while others will lose a friend or loved one. The variability of change is what makes it worth while. Change makes life interesting. Change teaches us what we're made of. Please don't fear change like I did. Go out and conquer your futures. Take over the world, and then aim for the heavens. 

You are the author of your own future; we've heard it a million times, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Don't fear inevitable change, rather take it by the horns, and run with it until something better comes along. I hope all of the changes that you all face lead you to nothing but the best. It has been an honor to be a part of this chapter with you. Good luck, and thank you."

 

The quaking in his hands had stopped unbeknownst to Armin and the buckling in his knees had vanished, with some unknown confidence he took long strides off stage. Somehow, he heard his parents clapping along with the crowd and his chest swelled with elation.

High school officially ended with the passing of diplomas and a sea of hugs, tears, and long winded goodbyes. While others hugged family members who offered far too many congratulations, Armin kept to himself, smiling at other students and parents as they passed.

Sometimes they commented on the speech, often they walked past without a word. Armin didn't mind.

His first official visitor was a surprise. He'd expected Connie, Jean, or maybe Eren, rather, Mikasa stood over him, towering in her spiked pumps. 

"You haven't told him yet," she said. She'd decorated herself that day with make up and far more jewelry than Armin ever remembered her owning. 

Silently, Armin shook his head.

"So, let me get this straight," she said, taking a seat beside him on the edge of the sidewalk. They both used Armin's gown as a mat. "You can give a speech in front of  _that_ many people without missing a single beat, but you can't tell my idiot brother that he can be kind of cute sometimes."

Unbelievably, she got him to laugh. "That's what it looks like," he confirmed.

"Bullshit," she nudged his shoulder with her own, hair falling across her face. "Remember what I said before? You don't have a single thing to lose now. You're both leaving in three months. What could it hurt?"

"My pride?" Armin offered.

"I didn't think you had any," she smirked, and he relented.

"It's minimal."

Humming thoughtfully, she stood and brushed imaginary dust off the back of her dress. "He's in the senior courtyard, in case you want to look for him."

The sun made the asphalt glisten, and he had to squint as she strutted away back to where her mother stood in a plain green dress that reached her ankles. Armin offered an impish wave that she returned. 

 

It didn't take long for Armin to end his antisocial exclusion, and embark on a mission to find Eren.

Mikasa had been right, Eren paced the courtyard with his eyes on the grass, studying his dirty shoes as he walked. Once upon a time, they'd been patent. 

"Hey," Armin called out, startling Eren into attention. His shoulders slackened when Armin stepped out of the shadows. "What are you doing? Shouldn't you be out partying and drinking or whatever you teenagers do these days."

"Eh," Eren shrugged, "I'm not feeling it right now."

"I understand," Armin said as he took a seat on the rotting picnic table. Weeds snaked up the sides and had began to crawl their way across the broken seats. The area had seen better days.  _It's now or never_ , his mind barked, sounding bizarrely like Mikasa. He tried to shake his head to force it away, but it remained. 

"You okay?" Eren laughed, having stopped pacing to watch Armin shake his head. 

"Uh," Armin blushed, "there was a bee."

"Oh," Eren nodded as he sauntered over to Armin, taking dramatically elongated steps.

_Now or never._

_Now_

_No,_ Armin thought.

_Never, then._

_Fuck._

"I need to talk to you," Armin breathed. He didn't have any note cards to help him through this speech. His chest seized, palms sweating. 

Eren, now seated on the bench that Armin rested his feet on, looked up with curious eyes. "Okay, shoot."

_Fuck._

"Eren, there's something I've been needing to tell you for a long,  _long_ time."

"Oh shit," Eren said, "you're not actually an alien meant to abduct us all are you? I'm the first target, aren't I?"

Armin smiled, feeling the stress subside just a little. "That's exactly it. I'm glad you understand."

He was going to have grey hair by the ages of 25.

They sat in silence for extended minutes, stretched thin as the top of a drum.

Eren broke first. "Seriously, dude, what's on your mind?"

"You," Armin whispered. "All the time. Just you. The way you smile and laugh. Your voice, your personality, your stupid addiction to bad video games and even worse music. Seriously, you and Jean have terrible tastes in music. Just," Armin found that he couldn't breathe, so he was left to squeaking. "You."

Eren's face was blank, eyes wide and vacant. He moved to speak, but no words came out, and when he tried again he was left with the same result. 

"I don't- I'm not sure what to say-"

"Don't," Armin said quickly, "don't say anything. It's fine. I just- it's been since freshman year and I had nothing to lose now. Don't worry about it, okay? I'll- Later. I'll see you around. Later."

 

Armin broke into a run before he'd left the perimeter of the courtyard and he didn't stop running until he'd found their niche in the woods. The weeds had grown taller than he remembered, and their flag had toppled over into a large pool of mud. The rocks had sunken deeper in the soil, and the creek didn't seem quite as clear. 

He didn't mind. He only intended to sit in the dirt and sulk anyway. When the tears began to flow, he didn't stop them. 

The longer he sat there, the colder the breeze became. His pants had soaked through with dirt and grime, and his eyes itched from hours of relentless tears. He hated having to cry, and he hated even more that he cried more over Eren than he had his own parents. 

When they'd passed, he was over taken with an unbearable numbness that refused to subside. Or course, he'd cry his fair share whenever the realization with hit him that they were gone, those realizations were frequent, but never for hours. Never into dead leaves and dirt with only a bubbling creek serving as company. 

He'd hit his ultimate low, he believed. 

Mud was caked under his nails from clawing at the ground, and it had also found its way into his hair.

He'd lost his friend again, but this time he'd been the one to push him away. No outside influence. Just Armin and his stupid puppy love crushes that had pushed him just a little too far over the edge.

 

A snapping tree branch caught his attention. It was followed by shuffling leaves and a tuneless whistling that the wind couldn't quite create. Eren appeared through the thick of the woods seconds later with Armin's graduation rope draped over his forearm. 

"You left this," he said, not stopping until he'd reached Armin's side. Without even taking in the sopping wet condition of the forest floor, Eren fell to his knees and draped the thick cloth over Armin's shoulders. "I've been looking for you," he added. "I looked over the school a few times. I look in my house, busted into your house. Even looked in the attic, and you weren't anywhere. I figured this could be the only place you'd run to."

"You found me," Armin said, "congratulations."

Eren hummed his thanks. "You should really consider letting people finish their thoughts sometimes," Eren laughed, picking at his own nails as the sky began to darken. 

Armin shrugged. "I get nervous."

"Well, you need patience. Because it's hard to find the right words to tell you that I think about you all the time without sound like an idiot. You're good with words, dude. I'm good at hitting people. It takes me a second."

Armin froze, and this time it wasn't because of the night air. "You what?"

"You heard me, doofus. How many ways can I possibly say that I have a giant fucking crush on you without sounding like an idiot? You're important, you know? You care so much, and take so little in return. You don't expect anything out of being a friend. You just do what needs to be done and hope that everyone's happy in the end. And that's... that's rad."

"I'm rad," Armin deadpanned.

"So rad," Eren smirked, "so rad that Annie wasn't a big fan of yours. She wanted me to keep by distance, and called my feelings out way before I even knew I had them. I mean, I denied them, but once she'd pointed them out, I couldn't get the nagging feeling to go away. And then you hooked up with Marco and I was so jealous, and there wasn't any reason  _why_ except for the fact that I wanted to be him. I didn't want to believe that, but it's pretty fucking clear now. I'm pretty head over heels gay for my best friend. Ain't that a knee-slapper."

"I'm a pretty big fan of this knee-slapper," Armin whispered, straightening his posture and sitting on his feet. "I'm pretty gay for you, too." He laughed. 

"This isn't how I imagined telling you," Eren confessed, picking a wildflower by his knee and poking it into Armin's hair. 

"Yeah," he smiled, "I didn't quite think I'd be covered in mud and looking like a blotchy make up puff, but here we are."

"Here we are," Eren repeated in a voice so soft that Armin barely caught his words. "Hey," he piped up, "does this mean I get to prove that I've gotten better at kissing?"

Armin wrinkled his nose at the suddenness of the suggestion. Though he laughed, it didn't sound half bad.

"I think it does," Armin confirmed.

 

One thing was made very clear to him that night: for what skill Eren lacked in dancing, he definitely made up for it in kissing. 

Armin wasn't complaining. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin enjoy the happiest summer of their lives together, before the reality of the future comes back to bite them
> 
> This is literally just gross smut and fluff, and it'll probably be the happiest chapter I'll ever write for anything ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! I hit a mild slump that made writing damn near impossible, especially for the tone I was trying to set for this chapter.  
> Super hard to write happy nerds when you're feeling pretty gross.  
> I'm feeling better now, though! So here we are!  
> I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do.  
> Check me out at erenjjeager.tumblr.com just to chat or throw around some ideas. I'd love to hear from you!

Eren had a brilliant idea, or at least that's what the claim was as he dragged Armin through acres of backwoods, through the creek, and into the familiar territory of Eren's own backyard.

"When are you going to tell me what we're doing?" Armin asked while brushing broken twigs and leaves from his sweater vest. "Because, I mean, I may need glasses sometimes, but I can clearly see that this is your house. What I'm failing to see is the brilliance."

"Wait for it" Eren said, and abandoned him on at he bank of the creek. He'd already conquered the massive hill that led to the plateau of his yard before Armin took the initiative to catch up. "We're going camping."

"If we're going camping, why did we leave the woods?" Armin incredulous tone only became heavier, and he dug the toe of his shoes into the dirt. Using that as a distraction, he successfully avoided eye contact with the other boy.

Eren smiled, and there was a gleam to his eyes when he realized he'd thought of something before Armin could. "We need a tent," he laughed, bouncing up two cement stairs that led to the entrance of the old storage shed. Armin swore he'd never seen a single member of the family use it, even if it had been sitting on the edge of the Jaeger property since Noah parked the ark. "I had one when I was younger. Remember the first time we went into the woods?"

"Yes," Armin sighed, "because I thought I was going to be attacked and eaten by a rabbit with a respiratory problem. The result of another brilliant idea."

When Armin shot Eren a sidelong glance, the brunette only snorted while focusing the majority of his attention on the combination lock that bolted the shed's door closed. Minutes passed, seconds of comfortable silence were filled with soft clicks as Eren spun the numbered dial. Armin opted to study the night sky and let Eren tirelessly to preform a search and rescue for his long lost tent.

The loud _clank_ of the lock releasing made Armin jump out of his skin; when he whipped around, his muddy hair smacked his cheek like whips. Armin was sure his eyes had all but fallen out of his skull. " _Jesus._ " Armin gasped.

"Sorry," Eren sounded sincere despite the mischievous grin he wore. "Hold this," he prompted before tossing the lock into Armin's waiting, open palms. "I'm going in."

"Don't let anything bite you," Armin advised as he reluctantly seated himself on the top step; it was narrow, so sitting on the muddy footprint Eren had left was unavoidable. He leaned against the threshold as Eren shuffled through the cramped confines of the storage unit. "Your dad may be a doctor, but I don't think he can do anything about you contracting rabies. Or the Black Death."

"Please," Eren scoffed. With a loud bang, something that sounded both heavy and fragile fell to the floor. Eren didn't seem too perturbed as he kicked its shattered remains from his path. "Don't be ridiculous. He'd take me out back and put me down Old Yeller style."

Armin hummed. "You're probably right."

It was no secret that the relationship Eren shared with his father was nothing less than rocky, but he offered a good-natured laugh nonetheless.

 

After two hours of trifling through the shed behind Eren's house, it became very clear that his childhood tent was not crammed inside with the rest of the Jaeger family junk. 

"There is one more place we can look," Eren suggested. The moon caught his eyes in a way that twisted Armin's stomach in knots; he didn't figure he'd ever get used it, and neither did he want to. 

"And where would that be?" Armin asked, arms looped around his torso, each cradled at the elbow. Slowly, Eren's gaze shifted to his raised back patio. Beneath the rotted wood was a small storage area meant for things that couldn't quite be weather damaged but had no reason to sit outside as an eyesore for the whole neighborhood. Armin could only imagine the countless bugs and rodents that had risen from the fifth circle of hell just to make a home out of the dank space.

Armin huffed a humorless laugh. "Absolutely not." He shoved the open combination lock into Eren's hand.

"Come on," Eren smirked, holding onto Armin's hand despite the bulk of the lock that dug into their palms, "I'll even do your dry cleaning if you get your nice shirt dirty."

The scowl Armin wore was apparently hilarious, because Eren's loud cackling smothered his extended groan. "Why can't we sleep in a bed like the civilized, middle class homo sapiens we are?"

"Look, dude," Eren said as he strode through damp grass, further ruining his only pair of formal shoes, "I may be a little gay, but names calling is just plain rude."

Rolling his eyes, Armin followed with much more calculated footsteps. The smile Eren wore was unfortunately infectious and soon Armin found himself giggling despite himself. If there had been an attempt at smothering the laughter, it was piss poor at best.

"That was a terrible joke," Armin said. His sentence was dissected by a loud crack when Eren forcefully made himself an opening into the crawl space. The wood splintered and spat a cloud of dust and probably termites.

" _Eren,_ " Armin hissed, eyes darting to the house where his parents were undoubtedly trying to sleep. 

"They sleep like the fucking dead," Eren shrugged before ducking through his self-constructed doorway.

"And you'll  _be_ fucking dead if your mother sees you getting those clothes dirty," Armin hissed, poking his head inside.

Pale moonlight filtered through the slits of the wooden patio overhead and streaked the area in luminescent hazy blues. 

Armin was barely able to see Eren as he moved swiftly through shadows, throwing junk to the side as he fruitlessly searched for the tent that neither of them had seen in ages. It was much easier to follow Eren's location based on how  _loud_ he was.

Swallowing his fear, bitter-tasting and dry, Armin tiptoed to Eren's side. It was immediately clear that Armin hadn't been wrong in assuming that Hell purged all it's most unsightly vermin under the Jaeger's back patio. 

Eren trekked on as though he hadn't even begun to notice. Armin, on the other hand, didn't quite have the same nonchalance. 

"Why are we doing this again?" Armin squeaked when something beside his foot moved and he collided back against something much more sturdy than he was. Eren looked over his shoulder when Armin bumped against him.

"Romance, dude."

"Those words will never belong in the same sentence, and I hope you're very well aware of that," Armin muttered, dropping his head to hide his face under Eren's arm. Eren, in returned, slid his hand into Armin's back pocket and pulled him closer, adopting a protective stance. 

"I am," he replied, not without a grin, as he planted a kiss on the top of his head. Armin's blood caught fire instantaneously; a match dropped in gasoline. 

 

Eventually, after slipping twice, accidentally killing something unthinkably large and crunchy, and hissing more curse words than he had in all of his 19 years, Eren stumbled out from under the patio with Armin in tow. Victoriously, he held the worn down corpse of his old tent in the air. "We've won half the battle, Armin."

Armin, propped himself against Eren's home and looked on with horror as he tied his overgrown locks behind his head. They'd already begun to stick to the sweat on his brow. "What's the second half?" He asked. His weary tone made Eren laugh. 

"Building it," Eren answered. 

"Have you ever put a tent together?" Armin questioned, doubt obvious, as he linked arms with Eren. They wandered back to the edge of the woods. 

Eren looked to the sky as they walked. He stumbled and slid on wet patches of fallen leaves, but he didn't seem too affected by his own lack of grace. "Nah," he finally said, pushing the corpse of his old tent higher onto his shoulder. He was anything but a liar. 

"Looks like we're gonna learn together then, huh?"

 

Building it, as they both discovered, was actually much more of a challenge than finding the thing in the first place. Twice, Eren reminded Armin that their struggle was in the name of romance, and in return Armin shook his head and continued in his attempt at linking two pieces of the frame together. 

"You know," Eren said, fashioning the fabric around his neck as a makeshift cape caked in mud and probably the eggs of a million insects, "dad made this look easy."

"He also probably did this when he could see what he was doing," Armin reminded him as he flexed his fingers. Manual labor never had agreed with him, and it was clear that tent building was no exception when his fingers began to cramp. 

"New plan," Eren announced loudly enough to wake a nest of nearby birds. They settled into quiet just as quickly as they'd been aroused. He stood from the stone he'd planted himself on and untied the fabric from around his neck, retreating a few yards into the trees.

Violently, he shook it until he was content that he'd rid of most of the gross things that clung to the fabric before he sprinted back to their usual site and spread it along the ground. He took extra care to smooth the corners and rid of wrinkles and bulges caused by twigs and rocks.

"There," he said, arms spread to showcase the enormity of what he'd done. "Viola. We have a blanket."

There were numerous snarky things Armin could have potentially said, but in the end he bypassed them all. "I think that's all we really need anyway," Armin admitted, dropping the rusting frame he'd been working with. "It's perfect."

 

"You know what I can't figure out?" Eren asked from his place on their makeshift bed. He'd taken the majority of the room, laid at an angle with limbs spread wide; Armin couldn't say he minded, though, because the warmth of their linked hands was enough to keep him content with his cramped corner of the blanket. 

Armin hummed contemplatively. "The art of sharing a blanket. Oh, no, the art of being mild mannered. Or how to keep dress clothes clean." Armin playfully kicked one of Eren's feet. The shoes he wore were beyond repair. 

"Okay. There are, apparently, quite a few things I can't figure out." He squeezed Armin's hand. "This one is different, though."

"Tell me about it," Armin said. 

"Constellations," Eren replied immediatey. "Like, stars just look like little dots to me, man. I don't see any spoons or anything like that." His gaze never strayed from the sky. There was a hole made perfectly in the canopy of trees that allowed them to see the expanse of the heavens from where they lay.

There were no clouds that night, and the moon shone brighter than the sun in Armin's mind. 

"They're not too hard to see once you get the hang of it," Armin said as he raised their hands, aligning their pointer fingers in the direction of the sky. Eren allowed Armin to guide his hand. "Okay," Armin whispered as he pressed himself as closely as he could against Eren's side.

"Look, if you start here," his voice was soft, a gentle breeze on a Spring day. Fresh air on a mountain's peak. His voice was home. It was a haven. "That star there is called Alkaid. If you can find that one, you can always find the Big Dipper. If you find the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper is always close by." Slowly, their hands traced empty air until they'd made a shape that almost resembled a misshapen ladle. "The Big Dipper ends after seven stars, see? Three for the handle and four for the cup."

Eren hummed.

"The last star on the cup is the one you want to focus on, because if you move just a little further north and smidge to the east, that's where Polaris is. When you find Polaris, you've found the Little Dipper. It's the same shape it's just-"

"Littler," Eren interrupted, excited by his deep comprehension of space.

"Exactly," Armin pressed a kiss to the back of Eren's hand as he brought them back to Earth. "So, you can point out where The Big Dipper is?"

Wordlessly, Eren raised his free hand and pointed. Armin nodded and placed a soft kiss against his cheek. "You're a fast learner," he praised, toying with the finger's on the hand that he still held between both of his own.

"Nah," Eren shook his head, "you're just a good teacher."

A small sound lodged itself in the back of Armin's throat, and when he blushed, Eren was sure to have noticed. "I- uh. They're all pretty easy to find once you find Polaris, really. Cepheus's point starts close to were Polaris is, and the Orion is just a little to the right. It's the one with the really big stars."

"I've heard of that one, I think." Eren said distantly. "Orion."

"I think you'd like that one. It's big and strong. It's bright. It has a presence that demands to be noticed." Armin silenced himself and look a large breath to keep his lungs from collapsing. "It reminds me of you, I think."

"Oh yeah?" Eren asked, eyes finally falling away from the night and landing on Armin's face.

He gave a cautious nod. "It's my favorite."

"You're a nerd," Eren whispered past curled lips. 

Armin shrugged. "What can I say?"

Eren bit the inside of his lip and rolled his shoulders; his eyes darted to the thickest line of trees when he spoke. "Preferably something that would let me know that it's okay to kiss you right now."

Finding that his voice was lodged in his throat, Armin only managed a nod. As it turned out, that was more than enough for Eren to act on. 

 

When Eren tangled his fingers in Armin's hair, Armin swore he saw the world stop completely. Hot, uneven breaths beat against his skin as Eren dipped his head lower, pressing a trail of kisses from Armin's cheek to the corner of his lips.

"You sound like you forgot how to breathe," Armin whispered on the tail of a quite laugh as shaking hands dragged along Eren's sides. 

"That's a pretty accurate," Eren huffed, planting a full-fledged kiss on Armin's lips that blossomed into something that resembled fireworks.

Armin ran the pad of his thumb against the line of Eren's jaw. The last time he'd done this they were both young and entirely clueless; he didn't remember the stubble being there before. 

Eren's breathing became more controlled but was no less of a pant as hands began to wander. Armin found that sliding his fingers idly along the length of Eren's thigh made the other boy release breathless gasps. He'd attempt to cover them by kissing Armin with more heat every time, but Armin still caught them unfailingly. Prying open the buttons on Eren's shirt took all the courage Armin could muster. His heart was in his head, drumming painfully, until Eren placed his hands on Armin's own.

"It's okay," Eren whispered into Armin's neck as he guided their hands along the buttons.

Armin nodded weakly as he pushed the fabric from Eren's shoulders until it pooled behind him in the wet soil. "Nervous. Just nervous."

Eren hummed quietly, taking Armin by the mouth. "Just tell me if you want to stop, alright? Just say the word."

Their mouths and chins were made slick by tongues gliding along lower lips and teeth sinking into the soft skin there. Armin would whimper and Eren would groan in return when fingernails would dig into his exposed shoulders and back. 

" _Fuck,_ " Armin heard him whisper as he sucked violets into the perfectly stretched skin of Eren's neck. The self satisfied smirk he wore was quickly wiped away when Eren rakes his teeth along naked skin and Armin sucked in a sharp gasp that pierced his chest. Eren laughed and pulled Armin into his lap, hands squeezing at his back side. 

"Quit," wrinkling his nose, Armin grazed his fingertips against the plane of Eren's chest and ghosted over nipples that hardened under the softness of the touch. A low whine slipped to Armin's mortification, but Eren drank it in.

In the cover of night, the boys took the memorizing slopes and curves as well as weak spots that produced the loudest sounds. It wasn't until then that Armin ran across the scar that gnarled the skin on the uppermost part of Eren's arm.

He ran curious fingers along the blemish. The skin was smoother to the touch and mingled with countless other scars that he received over the years, a direct result of his reckless nature. "I remember this," his voice was just as delicate as his touch

Eren smiled, but he watched Armin with care. His eyes were no less intense without the aid of the sun to sharpen them.

"Sword fight," he muttered, "you kicked my ass."

"Did you expect anything less?"

Eren caught his lower lip between his teeth when he pulled Armin in for a renewed kiss. His cheeks were stained crimson. Armin could almost hear his heart racing, pounding in time with the beat of his own. Their teeth still clicked and they lacked all tact in their hunger.

Kissing Eren was nothing like kissing Marco had been. Eren was rough, all bites and grabbing while Marco was light to the touch, unsure in what he was doing and silently please when Armin would show his approval. Both were undoubtedly incredible, but being with Eren was electrifying. The places where his hands had been burned like white light and chased his every doubt and insecurity into hiding.

The only repeating thought that raced through his mind was of Eren; the only person that mattered. How he looked, smelled, the softness in his eyes compared to the desperation in his touch.

He was so in love, and the thought made his heart all but stop beating.

He froze.

How did breathing work again?

"Armin?" Eren's hands fell away, and only their fingers remained laced by their sides. "Are you okay?" 

He didn't just love Eren as he had when they were younger. A switch had been flipped, the pieces fit, and he was _in love_ with Eren Jaeger. Everything about that boy was somehow golden. In the past Armin had fooled himself into loving the concept of Eren. He enjoyed the thoughts of dating his best friend, but those were only constructed of who he hoped Eren would be. Mentally, he had put himself in Annie's place and allowed himself to fall for fantasies. 

The real thing exceeded his fabricated expectations, somehow. In Armin's mind, Eren could do no wrong no matter how reckless or bullheaded he was. No matter how eye-watering his morning breath could be or fact that his lack of hygiene was concerning. There wasn't a single thing that could dim Eren's glow.

When his vision focused, Eren's wide eyes, flooded with concern, were all he could see. 

"Armin?" Soothing hands moved along Armin's arms in a repetitive loop. "I'm sorry," Eren whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Or scare you. Push you into anything. I don't know. I'm sorry, though."

"Shut up," Armin could barely hear his own voice over rustling leaves and the soft chatter of birds deeper in the woods, "Shut up, you didn't do anything wrong." Though Armin could feel his hands trembling, he cupped Eren's face between them, and the tension that gripped Eren's shoulders and strained at his face fell away little by little. "I just- I got lost in thought."

Eren huffed, but a small smirk pulled at his lips. "Was it that bad?"

Rolling his eyes, Armin shifted closer, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Eren's neck. "Terrible." He shifted uncomfortably as his erection began to subside. "Clearly."

The smirk morphed into a toothy grin, and Armin felt blood rush to his cheeks. 

"I think I need a shower," he whispered, still hiding his face in Eren's skin.

"Yeah," Eren agreed, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders and easing it from his arms with dramatic stretches. When he turned to grab his shirt from the mud, his joints cracked and the resulting moan bordered on erotic. He went on as though it hadn't happened. "You do stink."

 

Eren packed the tent on his own, refusing both of Armin's offers to help. In his downtime, Armin was left to sit on the most rounded stone he could find at the waters edge as he watched the sun creep into the sky.

"Hey, Eren," Armin said, eyes set straight ahead. The rustling and clanking ceased at the sound of Eren's name.

"Yeah?"

"I never told you what I was thinking about," Armin said, keenly listening to the crunching of leaves and snapping twigs as Eren trekked to the rock where Armin had perched.

"You didn't," Eren confirmed, crouching by the creek and dipping his fingers just under the surface. "What happened?"

Armin shrugged. "I just realized something. Bad timing." He cracked a small smile while the sun inched higher and pink hues blazed through the morning sky. Electric orange rays exploded brilliantly on their flanks.

"Nah," Eren shook his head; the broken leaves stuck in his hair refused to fall. "We don't have to do any of that stuff, you know. You don't have to do anything with me, Armin."

Scoffing, Armin moved from the stone and stood by Eren's side, picking leaves from his mussed mane. "It wasn't a realization like that. It was just-" Armin bit his tongue, looking down at Eren and then back to the expanse of the horizon. "It was scarier than that. I just think that maybe I-" Armin gave a frustrated sigh. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Its not like you, you know?" Eren flicked his eyes upward before his gaze met the creek once again. "To not be able to speak. You were always the one who could talk us out of anything." Eren gave a soft laugh. "Like remember that one time when me, you, and Mikasa got in a pillow fight and I fucking annihilated that ceramic mug that your parents bought my mom when they were on one of their trips?"

"I remember," Armin smiled, "your mom was going to skin you alive."

"Right," Eren bit his lower lip, still swollen from Armin's eager biting and sucking, "you saved our asses though with this giant speech that you made up on the fly. You didn't even stutter once."

"I didn't want you to die that kind of death; that's all," Armin affectionately ruffled his hair as if Eren were a pet. Finally, Armin sank onto his knees until he was eye level with Eren. "What would you say-" he began. His throat was dry and the uneven thudding in his chest made breathing uncomfortable. Shallow, short breaths were what he had to resort to just to keep himself from blacking out as his anxiety built. 

"Armin," Eren said evenly, "are you feeling okay? Do you need to lay down? I can give you war paint again. Like with the bugs, remember? Show your nerves who's boss."

"No," Armin laughed holding his hands up to ward of the mud that Eren had managed to scrape from the creek bed. "I just want to know," he paused, taking time to collect himself before finally meeting Eren's warm eyes, the color of life itself. "What would you say if I said I loved you?"

"I would say I loved you, too." Eren didn't take a second to hesitate.

Nodding, Armin continued. "What would you say if I told you that I realized-" he wet his lips, and the sun was now warm enough to make sweat bead under the collar of his shirt. "My realization was that I'm in love with you."

"I would say..." Eren pressed his lips together, eyes darting toward the trees and back again. "It's about damn time."

Armin felt every one of his vital organs explode and reign confetti. He played it off well, though. 

"Like you have any room to talk," Armin laughed. "Making me wait for you for four years. Swear to God." 

"I mean, I wouldn't have objected to you sweeping me off my feet like a knight in shining armor or anything," Eren snickered when Armin offered his hand with a dramatic roll of the eyes.

"Maybe you wouldn't have minded," Armin reasoned, "but Annie would have stomped me into the ground."

Eren shrugged. "You and me both. It would've been some Shakespeare tragedy shit."

"Take me home before I push you in the creek," Armin instructed, bumping against Eren's hip as he hiked up the embankment. His words formed a grin, and Eren raced after him hooking an arm around his waist and tucking him into his side as they walked. "The tent-" Armin said, looking back over their bumping shoulders.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Eren flicked his wrist in dismissal. "I feel like we'll be needing it again anyway."

"I'm hoping so," Armin allowed himself to fold completely into Eren's side as they walked, and the protective grip on his arm only became more vice like. The birds sang, bees swarmed flowers, and the world found peace if only in that singular moment. 

 

They hiked through the woods, bound through the creek, and wandered straight through Eren's yard and into Armin's. 

"You can take a shower in the master bathroom if you want. I don't really go in that room anymore, or else I would but," he shrugged. "I mean, you know this house just as well as I do so-"

"It's okay." Eren shook his head, "I'll wait for you."

Armin shrugged.

"M'kay," he nodded, pulling Eren by the hand upstairs. "I'll hurry," he pressed a kiss to Eren's cheek as he ducked into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself. 

 

Eren lasted around three minutes on his own before he followed Armin into the bathroom.

At the sound of the door opening, Armin immediately poked his head out from behind the curtain, preparing himself for an unfortunate and nude death. 

"It's just me," Eren said with his back to Armin; the door closed inaudibly. 

"What are you doing?" Armin asked, wringing his hair nervously into the tub. 

"Nothing weird, I promise," Eren said. The grave sincerity in his tone made Armin giggle. "Just wanted company." He lowered the toilet lid and made a seat out of it while Armin watched him skeptically. 

Scenarios flooded his mind's eye and blood raced to the lower half of his body fast enough to make him feel dizzy; subconsciously, he bit his lip. "Shame," he said, fully stepping into the spray and allowing the curtain to close. "I can't say I would've minded something weird."

"Armin, are you-"

"Do you want a shower or not?" Armin reappeared from behind the curtain. Water fell in beads down his face and traced the outline of his lips and jaw, and Eren had to forcefully swallow any words the threatened to spew out. 

When realization struck, a broad smile parted Eren's lips. "Hell yes."

 

Summer days trickled away in a stream of lazy days and even lazier nights.

Sometimes they would visit the spot in the woods, or go around town on miniature dates only to showcase their disgusting affection, but mostly they would lay around both of their homes, splayed across bed and sofas as they watched trash TV. All conversation was welcome, but topics about the future and the months after summer were avoided like the plague.

Armin was grateful. 

 

It was in the middle of July at the ungodly hour of six in the morning when Eren suggested that they should pay a visit to Sina, a nearby ritzy town, for the Botanical Garden he'd heard his sister raving about months before. 

"Why do you want to go to a botanical garden?" Armin rasped with a sleep-heavy voice. He yawned while rubbing a limp hand across his face. "That doesn't seem like you're kind of thing."

"Mm," Eren shrugged, "it sounds pretty cool. And you like science and nature and all that; I thought you might like it."

A sleepy smile graced Armin's face though the sun shone directly into his eyes, and all he really wanted to do was go back to sleep. "Okay, Eren." He whispered as he wrapped his arms around Eren's waist and hid his eyes in the closest hip. 

When Eren leaned against the headboard, his bed creaked, but he made no further noise or disturbances until Armin fully woke two and a half hours later. The wakefulness from six AM had disappeared, now, Eren dozed against the headboard, head bowed and arms crossed loosely across his chest. 

" _Eren_ ," Armin whispered, poking the other boy's stomach. "Eren, wake up." _  
_

Eren grumbled something incoherent, but stubbornly kept his eyes closed. 

"Up," Armin said again, forcing himself into a seated position.

Shaking his head, Eren only muttered a grumpy "no."

At first, Armin only bit his lip and puffed his cheeks in frustrated defeat, but a small light bulb went off in his head, and a smirk replaced his pout at record speeds. 

"Alright, fine," he rolled his shoulders, "forceful tactics then."

If Eren thought the sly smile he wore was sneaky and well disguised, he was dead wrong; Armin saw it from the corner of his eye when he swiveled to straddle Eren's legs. A curious hand traveled along Eren's upper thigh. Though Eren kept his eyes squeezed closed in a poor attempt to pretend sleep, his lip was caught painfully between his teeth in anticipation. 

Armin laughed through his nose and brought his hand higher until his thumb was able to trace the noticeable outline of Eren straining against his boxers. Self satisfaction flooded Armin's gut at the sound Eren made when Armin slid his thumb along the length. 

"Are you gonna wake up now?" Armin asked, leaning to kiss the skin above the waistband of his underwear. 

"If things keep moving like this, I'm gonna have to say no," Eren muttered, cheeks flushed and hands balled into the comforter. 

"Good," was Armin's response before he trailed wet kisses along Eren's surprisingly tight boxer briefs. 

The only response Eren was capable of was a quivering groan. Armin gave up on talking, finding the head and prodding at it with his tongue through the fabric. Arching his back, Eren tried, unsuccessfully, to move his legs from under Armin's weight. Armin made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. 

"In good time," Armin breathed, looking up through his lashes.

Eren shuddered in response, hardly able to keep his breathing hushed. Heavily hooded eyes studied him, pupils blown wide. Silently, Armin shifted his weight just enough to allow Eren to free his legs. They were spread invitingly, and lust sparked in every nerve ending Armin had. 

"Okay, now's as good of a time as ever."

The hue of pink that dusted Eren's cheek deepened and Armin felt his neck and ears warm. Hooking his fingers under the waistband of Eren's underwear, he met Eren's eyes as a silent plea for permission.

"Please," Eren croaked, impossibly, he squeezed the blankets tighter until his knuckles were bleached white. Starbursts against sun-darkened skin. 

Armin swallowed the dry lump in his throat forcefully, closing his eyes as he pulled the piece of clothing away in a single motion. The sharp gasp Eren released made Armin's eyes snap open. "Sorry," he apologized frantically, eyes wide.

"Nn-" Eren shook his head. "S'good. M'fine."

Shakily, Armin let go of a long breath before he kissed along Eren's hips. Eren waited patiently, chest rising and falling heavily while Armin kissed, bit, and sucked every bit of skin that appealed to him.

When he finally licked a broad stripe along the underside of Eren's length, he _keened_ , leaning forward and failing to care when his hair fell in his eyes. Armin poured every ounce of his attention into what he was doing rather than allowing himself to be distracted by the needy noises Eren groaned through gritted teeth. 

His confidence grew with each hitched breath and stir of hips at Armin swirled his tongue over the tip and dipped into the slit before taking as much into his mouth as he could handle. He was slow at first, every move was calculated and clean. 

Armin bobbed his head with caution, testing his own limits before discovering that the action was far easier to manage than he'd intended. Without warning, restless hands found purchase in Armin's hair, gripping at the root. Though he whined, he didn't protest or fight, rather he took a leap of faith and let instincts, as well as Eren's hands, guide him through. 

With nails digging deep enough to break skin and a grip firm enough to bruise Eren's hips, Armin did his best to loosen his throat, kill his gag reflex, and unabashedly aim to make Eren forget his very own name. 

He was fairly sure it almost worked. 

" _S-shit-_ " Eren whispered as his knees fell open further still. His head lulled to the side, and he fought to keep his hips from thrusting too far. Armin only stopped him once during the process when he had gagged, but he was undeterred in finishing his work.

As a form of a break, Armin toyed with Eren's balls, rolling them with his tongue as he pumped Eren's slick length lazily. 

Eren's groans were shameless and needy, and they helped to encourage Armin to work faster. Soon, his strokes were stronger, and his thumb worked the head relentlessly. Precome dribbled onto the pad of his thumb, and dutifully he licked it away. 

Eren watched with wide eyed thirst, and his breath hitched in his throat. 

"Armin, I-" Eren warned, slumping where he sat. 

When Armin nodded his understanding, Eren expected him to distance himself. Armin, though, was apparently full of surprises. He lowered his hand on the shaft gave quick sporadic tugs while his mouth worked where his hand didn't reach. 

Eren came with a white light behind his eyes and a ringing in his ears. Armin's named rolled off his tongue in a desperate chant. 

Armin did his best to swallow, though mostly it dribbled along his chin and coated his hand.

Rubbing his hand along his mouth only caused a bigger mess; regardless, Armin still made eye contact with Eren and did his best to ignore the heat that blossomed in the apples of his cheeks.

"I have a question," Eren announced once he was decently composed, and Armin nodded his willingness to answer.

"Okay," he whispered while Eren leaned across the bed to trifle through his nightstand. 

Eren never removed his eyes from the contents of the drawer as he trifled through it. He brushed things to the side carelessly on his hunt until, finally, he slammed the drawer shut, hand clasped around something small and transparent.  "Are you a virgin?" 

His tone wasn't mocking or assuming; the casual nature of it was astounding as if Eren had only asked his name or what the weather was like. It was a simple question that still made Armin's eyes bug wide and his stomach drop to where his knees should be. "Was I that bad?" He tried to laugh off the question. 

"Jesus Christ, Armin," Eren reached out to take Armin's hand so he could press the bottle into his palm. When Armin curled his fingers around its cool surface, Eren dropped his own hands onto his stomach. "Not at all. I just want to know if I'm going to be the first person you've fucked."

"I-" Armin felt his jaw drop and he squeezed the bottle between both of his hands anxiously. "Are you joking with me?"

Earnestly, Eren shook his head. 

"I mean," Armin sighed, "I am. Kind of. I've definitely never gone, you know,  _this_ far." With one hand he covered his face and with the other he dangled the bottle between his fingertips. Timidly, Armin peaked through the gaps in his fingers.

Eren nodded. "Cool, okay. We're in the same boat."

"Eren," Armin deadpanned, "I know for a fact that you're not a virgin."

Eren shrugged. "I feel like being with a guy, uh, being with _you_ , is going to be a whole different game." When he became flustered, Eren had a tendency to rub the back of his neck, just as he did in that moment.

"Oh," Armin whispered with a nod, "you may be right."

With a wry laugh, Eren nodded. "Aren't I always."

"Seldom." 

"Be gentle with my ego, dude," Eren muttered, pulling Armin's arm and beckoning him closer. Crawling forward on all fours, Armin left his hand splayed wide against the firm muscle the made up Eren's thigh. Eren gripped him by the hair, and took him in his an open mouthed kiss, ignoring the bitter remains of the blow job left on Armin's lips.

"I'm almost sorry," Armin whispered before Eren caught his lip between his teeth and rendered him incapable of speaking. 

With gentle movements, Eren brushed sweaty hair from Armin's face. "I can make sure you are, Arlert."

"Yeah?" Armin's eyes sparked in the unfiltered morning sun.

"Next time," Eren wet his lips, "right now, I just want you inside me, yeah?"

Nervously, Armin chewed his lip, but agreed regardless by nodding eagerly. "Of course, dear. Next time."

"Oh!" Eren said, twisting back around to his nightstand. This time the search was much shorter and only resulted in a square of foil being flicked in Armin's direction. "Almost forgot," Eren said paired with a cheeky smile. 

Armin busied himself with removing clothes and uncapping the bottle of lube that had been passed to him while Eren fluffed pillows and stacked them until he was satisfied enough to prop himself against them.

"Eren," Armin deadpanned, looking levelly over the bottle. 

"Hm?" Eren stopped mid-pillow fluff. 

"It's uh-" Armin hummed, "it's kind of a little empty." The way he laughed was far from disappointed.

Straight faced, Eren plucked it from Armin's fingers. "You cannot be serious."

"As a heart attack," Armin continued in his giggling. 

"Well," Eren shrugged, tossing the empty container toward the corner of his room where unwashed laundry lay piled a few feet high. "Looks like we have to make a Wal-Mart run. After the Gardens, of course."

"After?" Armin huffed. Suddenly, the situation wasn't funny.

Eren shrugged. "We do have to take care of that, though," both pairs of eyes fell on the strain in Armin's pajama bottoms. 

"Please."

 

"You know," Armin said from the passengers seat, "this place is supposed to be 79 acres." He kept his eyes trained on the passing scenery despite feeling Eren's gaze fall on him. Nervous heat rose up his neck and colored his ears until the other boy averted his gaze, stopping for a group of pedestrians darting across the street. 

"That's a lot of flowers," Eren replied mildly. The grin on his face was far from disinterested, though. 

"Mm," Armin hummed, "doesn't sound like your cup of tea."

"Man," Eren huffed, squeezing Armin's hand where they rested piled together on top of the console, "I have nothing against admiring pretty things in my spare time."

Armin nodded, not completely convinced. As Armin watched the road pass, he failed to notice the way Eren's eyes lingered far too long on his side of the car. 

 

It didn't take long to get lost in the gardens, and the map provided little to no assistance. 

"We've passed this bridge like three times," Eren commented, pointing at the structure just like he had every time before, "isn't that on the map?"

"Afraid not," Armin laughed, swinging their linked hands as they walked. Because Armin had his eyes trained on the folded guide; Eren served to ensure that he didn't walk over small children or into stray garbage cans. He succeeded for the most part. "I don't mind though. It's a nice bridge to see repeatedly."

They walked another full circle. 

"We have to be in the Chinese Garden," Armin finally determined, "I mean, I think the architecture is kind of indicative. That and the colors. I mean it's all really neutral and calming, which is meant to ease the mind. Classical Chinese ideals and techniques."

"And now in English." Eren prompted. 

"Just keep following this path and fork to the right to find the fun parts," Armin twisted the map to the left and then the right. "I think."

Eren nodded. "We're gonna die here aren't we?"

"Probably," Armin shrugged. "At least it's tranquil."

"If that's code for boring as hell, you are completely right," Eren jabbed.

"Shut up before I push you in the River of Rest," Armin retorted, yanking at the ends of Eren's hair.

"Be sure that I hit my head on one of the rocks of solitude. Please be that kind."

"Absolutely not," Armin gasped, horrified, "if I'm stuck suffering through the garden of scholarly hell, so are you."

"We're breaking up," Eren grumbled. Armin's only response was a shrug and a self satisfied smile as he guided Eren deeper into the garden. 

 

Eren found salvation in a pack of young children screaming their throats raw at the entrance to the English Woodland Garden. 

" _FREEDOM!"_ He cried, joining their din. 

Silently, Armin rolled his eyes. "You are such a drama queen," he said with his hands in his front pockets. Without a hand to hold, Eren opted to slide his hand into the back pocket of Armin's worn out blue jeans and called it a victory.  

"I neither confirm or deny," Eren said, looking over the herd of people they trailed like lost lambs. "Where are we going?"

"Butterfly enclosure," Armin's smile sparked a fire under Eren's skin. 

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm! They have hundreds from all over the world. It's the biggest reason people flock here," Armin shrugged, "that and because I mean. It's Sina. Everyone wants to be here."

Eren nodded, "everyone wants to see a good butterfly every now and then."

The way Armin's face scrunched at his remark made Eren's bones turn to rubber. He cleared his throat violently before he could vomit something along the lines of "you're so cute" or "oh my god please let me kiss you." He overcame the urge, and clung to the shreds of his dignity. "What?" He asked, voice more of a rasp than anything else.

"You're just kinda cute with your attempt at indifference."

"Look," Eren said, "no one can know that I'm secretly psyched as hell to meet these butterflies." 

"We're meeting them?" Armin asked, his eyes crested over his cheeks due to the broadness of his smile.

Eren nodded as the pack of adults herded into a more-or-less single file line. "Naming and greeting each and every one."

"I think that's a great idea," Armin said, mostly to himself though Eren heard him clearly.

"Might even adopt a few."

"You can't smuggle the butterflies, Eren."

With his lips pressed against Armin's forehead, Eren smeared his words. "I'm breaking the kids out of prison."

The faint smile that graced Armin's lips complimented the way Eren's eyes glinted under the merciless sun, irises flooding with childlike glee. When the father of an extremely uncomfortable family cleared his throat, the boys shuffled forward with stifled giggles and pink, sun baked cheeks. 

 

At it turned out, Eren had been very serious about naming the countless hoards of butterflies inside the enclosure. And, naturally, he gravitated towards the largest one first: a Giant Swallowtail. 

"This is Juan Carlos the Eighth," he called over his shoulder excitedly

The resulted laughter that bubbled from Armin was hard to disguise as a passive snicker. "Why?" He asked as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. Slowly, he gained composure and wiped his eyes while Eren shrugged.

"I'unno," he explained, validating his reasoning, "it just feels right."

Armin found no reason to argue. "You're absolutely right."

Half an hour passed in seconds as the boys fast-walked through the enclosure on a mission to give the most unfortunate names to all the butterflies they could find. Once the name supply began to run slim, the game came to a close; the favorites consisted of a Monarch named Big Bertha, Gertty the Cabbage White, and a Sulphur Butterfly who sported the most elegant name of all: Hard Boiled Eggs. 

 

"I don't understand why I can't keep Juan Carlos the Eighth," Eren pondered as they searched for his car, "we have a bond."

"That's probably because he's a very expensive insect." Armin ruffled Eren's hair and puled his face down to kiss his temple. "Maybe they would've let you keep Big Bertha if you'd gotten on your knees and begged."

"There are very few things that make me want to get on my knees," Eren spared a sidelong glance that lasted all of a millisecond. Armin still caught it and the warmth that flooded his gut as a result was unfortunate. "And she just isn't one of them."

 

Eren hadn't forgotten the Wal-Mart run. They went in with a plan. 

"Alright," Armin said, running over the plan once more, "Lube, condoms, car."

Sighing, Eren pushed his way out of the car and waited for Armin to join him outside. "Chill out," he laughed, "you're acting like this is some secret operative mission that determines the fate of the country. We're just buying a couple things."

Puffing his cheeks, Armin nodded his understanding. "I  _know_. I'm just nervous."

"Virgin."

Eren barely escaped the punch aimed at his kidney. 

 

At first, the shopping trip went swimmingly. There were no witnesses in the family planning department, and Armin was sure that God smiled on him, homosexual intent aside. Finding what they needed was simple, and the check out lines were unbelievably slim.

It all fell to shit, though, when they made it to the register and a very familiar name was written on the cashier's name tag. The face of the boy was even more familiar still. Armin felt his dignity begin to shred piece by agonizing piece. 

"Well, well," Connie said, taking his sweet time sliding the two items across the scanner. "I haven't seen you guys in way too long."

"Hey, Connie," Eren said casually.

"Whatcha been up to?" He asked before minding the objects he was bagging. "You know what? Nevermind. I'm not that curious."

Though Armin shrunk into himself; Eren continue conversing. "We both know what's a lie. Why are you even here?"

Armin prayed that God would send more people to file into Connie's line and push the conversation to a close, but his divine love had run out. 

"Man, being poor fucking sucks," Connie looked over his shoulder to ensure that he didn't ruin the innocence of small children with his uncontrolled language. "Sasha wanted to take a vacation to the beach at the end of the summer, y'know, before school swallows her soul. I'm just here to pay for it, then I'm out" He paused. "You guys should come! Sash won't mind, she's down for anything. You guys are getting your own room though." He shook the box of condoms. "If you feel me."

Eren paid and promised that he'd think on it before snatching his bag out of Connie's hand. Armin dragged him out of the store forcefully, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid hearing Connie call after them. 

"So," he hollered, both hands cupped around his mouth, "who's the bottom?"

 

Armin didn't know what he was getting into; all he knew was that Eren's erection was pressed against his stomach, and his own was becoming painfully intolerable. When he pulled away from sucking dark marks into Eren's otherwise clear skin, Eren offered a small, enocuraging whine that made Armin's heart skip.

"Okay, ready?" Eren asked quietly with legs spread and arms hooked above his head. He'd readjusted his pile of pillows, and now posed as the picture of vulnerability. 

Shallow breaths barely filled Armin's lungs, and his head swam with euphoria. "I- think so. Yes."

His palms were damped with sweat.

"Good," Eren shimmied his hips to sink further into the mattress. "Do your worst."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. This will be terrible." Armin mumbled as he rubbed an excessive amount of lubricant between his fingers. He partly globed it on his fingers in Eren's best interest, and part of him just wanted the evidence of their humiliating shopping trip gone.  

"Doubtf-fuck" Eren hissed when Armin pressed his fingertip against the tight ring of muscle. "Fuck, okay, sorry. Sorry." He tried to relax himself all over again.

"It's alright," Armin whispered, jerking his hand away, "you trust me." It wasn't a question.

Eren nodded confidently. "More than anyone." With closed eyes, Eren took in large breaths and exhaled slow and shaky. "I'm okay."

Armin allowed his eyes to linger on Eren for just a while longer to calculate the least painful way to go about something like this, but all he could draw were blanks. Slow and intent, Armin pushed inside of Eren's warmth. 

The other boy gasped and arched off the bed, face pinched with discomfort. 

"Eren-"

"Keep going," Eren instructed with confidence that wasn't quite visible. "I do this to myself normally," Eren admitted, "it's always like this at first. Keep going, Armin."

"Okay," Armin nodded dutifully, working his single digit in full thrusts until Eren had fully relaxed and the movement became easier. 

"Add another."

Armin studied Eren's face, his eyes were painted with hesitancy. 

"Please, Armin. I need you to add another finger." He lifted his hips and forced himself deeper on Armin's hand. 

Armin asked for no more reassurance as he aligned the second finger and pushed inside. Eren took him eagerly; only a wince paired with a silent cry indicated his discomfort. Soon, though, the pained expression morphed into one of pleasure. His teeth sank into his lower lip, and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.

This time, he didn't demand Armin to move, rather he fucked himself on his own accord, sinking onto Armin's fingers until Armin couldn't stand sitting on the sidelines any longer. With a newly established confidence, Armin hovered over Eren and forced his fingers deeper. His pace became more erratic as the thrusting became deeper until Eren took in a sharp gasp, exhaling in a lewd moan.

"There, Armin," his voice was straining, but Armin needed no more coaching. 

Once he'd discovered it, finding that spot again and again was simple and completely rewarding when Eren's groans became louder and the grip he had on his pillows was deadly.

"Armin," Eren grunted, back arching from the mattress, "Armin, st-stop I'm gonna-"

"Okay," Armin nodded, hair bouncing and falling across his face. "Okay."

When Eren settled back against the bed, Armin was able to remove his fingers with as much care as he could manage. Desperately, once his hands were free, he tore the condom open and made quick work of wasting another massive portion of lube by lathering along his painfully hardened length haphazardly.

"Eren," Armin whispered, adjusting himself between Eren's spread thighs. "You're sure?"

Eren made a noise that fell somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. An implied yes. 

 

Every coherent thought Armin had fled when he pushed inside Eren's snug warmth. The noises Eren made combined with the writing beneath him did little to ease the ringing in Armin's ears. His breaths came in heaves and his fingers were sure to press defined bruises into Eren's hips. 

Neither of them seemed too concerned.

"It's okay," Eren coaxed, "fuck me like you want to."

 

Armin lasted an embarrassingly short amount of time, but Eren had no place to mock his stamina or lack thereof. He was only able to withstand for mere seconds while Armin rode out his orgasm with untrained thrusts; the way he stroked Eren through it bordered on painful. All the better, though, Eren figured, because he came in record time. He saw white before the darkness, and his body tensed with his release. Armin gave a moan that would put porn stars to shame when Eren clenched around him, coming down from his own elation. 

Eren took his time opening his eyes. His head spun and his heart raced, brutalizing his rib cage; Armin, he found, rested with his head laid against Eren's stomach. 

Twisting dampened blonde locks around his trembling fingers was how Eren chose to pass his time as he waited for Armin to work up the nerve to look up. When he finally did, Eren felt his insides melt and pool in his stomach.

Armin was breath-taking in every way. His fringe clung to the sweat on his brow, and his face was pink with exertion. He took heavy breaths through deliciously parted lips until they curled into a smile.

"That was embarrassing," Armin murmured when he'd hidden his face back in Eren's skin. 

"Debatable," Eren soothed Armin's wild hair as best as he could. "How about a shower?"

Armin was the first one to grab his clothes in a single, swooping armful and haul ass to the nearest bathroom. Eren, though lacking the speed, followed suit. 

 

The beach trip was planned for the last two days of summer vacation, and though Connie proved to be plenty excited about the trip, he seemed far more ecstatic about leaving his position at Wal-Mart. 

"Dude," he said for the forth time in under two minutes, "I swear to God. One time a customer yelled 'dick ain't that good' in my face because her eggs didn't ring up the sales price and I told her  _I_ couldn't do anything about it." _  
_

"She was onto something," Sasha muttered in Armin's ear.

"Fuck y'all, man," Connie flicked his wrist when the rest of the car laughed, "there is no need to lie. I'm getting a divorce from all of you. I don't need friends. I'm great. I'll make more."

Mostly, he pouted for the rest of the ride, but still refused to stop telling of his misadventures at work. No one minded in the slightest, though Sasha's commentary was what made every story something worth laughing over until all their stomachs ached. 

 

Time spent on the beach was solemn for Armin. While Eren built the largest sandcastle he could, Connie and Sasha nearly drown one another in the ocean, but Armin only read. Or, at the very least, he pretended to read. Mostly his eyes remained bleary behind mirrored sunglasses. The lead weight had returned in his chest, and everything seemed to be more dull. Everything lacked passion and joy. 

Eren left town for military training the following day, and while Armin had been silently preparing himself for the worst over the past three months, no amount of preparation was enough. He wouldn't see that smile, or hear that laugh for months. He wondered how hard it would be to forget the glow in those green eyes or the way freckles dusted his abdomen almost invisible against his complexion. 

Soon, he would no longer share a bed with the only person who owned his very soul.

The future looked like nothing but cold sheets and silent nights.

Time was stripping him of the boy who tossed rocks at his window, sat through miserably cold nights in the middle of the woods for time between just the two of them, and held him while he cried.

No, he couldn't quite focus on reading when he was losing the source of his light.

"You mother _fucker,_ " Eren howled, racing across the beach hot on Connie's tail. Immediately, Armin sat up straighter, dragged back to reality. Eren's once impressive castle now sat in ruins, and Armin had a hunch that Connie was the reason. 

"Sometimes it's like nothing changed," Sasha said from behind Armin's chair. "They're still 14, I think."

"It's best like that," Armin said, voice dull, "I like life just like this."

Crouching, Sasha ran slim fingers through loose grains of sand. "Yeah," she agreed, "but you said it yourself, Armin. We shouldn't fear change; it comes for us all. Remember?"

The laugh Armin offered was dry. "I was prepared for anything," he pressed him lips together, "and now, I cant imagine any scenario where I'll be happy after today."

"He'll come back," Sasha reassured him by placing a hand between his shoulders, Sasha had a tendency to come off as air-headed, but Armin knew better. She could read him like a large print. "Don't fear inevitable change," she whispered, and he recognized those words from the millions of times he'd practiced his valedictorian speech for his parents' headstones, "rather take it by the horns, and run with it until something better comes along."

"You know how some things are easier said than done? Better in theory?" Armin asked.

Sasha's voice was soft when she said, "yes."

"Yeah," Armin nodded. Calmly, purposefully, Armin closed his book.

 

Monday, August 25th, was not a day meant for goodbyes. The sun glared too brightly in an obnoxiously blue sky. Children laughed too loudly as they played in the streets. Everything was too bright, and everyone was too happy. 

Sluggishly, Armin carried the last of Eren's things down stairs and placed it in the backseat of the beaten down sedan, loaded far past its recommended limit. There was no doubt that it, too, had seen better days. 

"Well," Armin croaked, throat closing on the verge of tears. "This is it." Despite his best efforts, tears brimmed in his eyes and his voice roe an octave with each word that fell from his trembling lips.

"This is it," Eren confirmed. He shook all over despite the unforgiving heat of the day. 

"I-"

"Don't." The solidity of Eren's voice caught Armin off guard. "Don't you give me a goodbye speech. This isn't goodbye, and don't you dare think otherwise."

His apparent strength was only skin deep. His shoulders sagged and his face was darker than usual. Bags had formed under his eyes, and he'd neglected shaving that morning. 

Armin swallowed his tears, stepping forward to press a hand against Eren's cheek. "I'll write you, okay? The Postal Service will be sick of me by Christmas." He tried for happy, but his lip still struggled not the quiver under the impending threat of breaking down in broad daylight.

He was swallowed by Eren's embrace, unforgiving and strong. Tears slid down Armin's cheeks when he face was fully hidden in the fabric of Eren's t-shirt, and he almost swore he felt droplets dampen the hair that Eren had buried his face in. 

"It's only a few months," Eren nodded, clearing his throat and sniffling. 

"A few months," Armin studied the cement beneath his feet.

"I love you, Armin," Eren said finally, tipping Armin's chin up so that their eyes met for the first time that morning.

Something deep inside him broke, and the tears fell freely down his cheeks. "I love you, too," his voice quivered. "That's the problem."

He received a kiss to the forehead before Eren's parents made it outside with just enough time to offer quick hugs and pecks on the cheek. 

"Be safe, baby," Carla said when she wrapped an arm around Armin's thin frame and gave him a squeeze. "We'll be okay. Right, Armin?"

Gravely, Armin nodded. 

"I'm proud of you, Eren," his father said.

Eren studied his feet for a long while. Children still screamed and laughed, a car honked at them signaling them to move, and, somewhere in the far distance, a siren blared.

Unceremonious.

"I love you," Eren finally said. He looked at no one but Armin.

Armin saw his world blacken further. 

 

All of the color he'd ever known drained away as he watched Eren drive away. Armin held his breath until the car had vanished around the bend, and, with it, all of his life, hope, and happiness disappeared too.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin discovers, painfully, that he's only half of who he should be without Eren around. He makes new friends and handles school well, but he just can't seem to be happy without Eren's light guiding his path and making him feel human until a cornerstone from the past arrives to help him heal.

It was no secret: Armin wasn't handling the absence of Eren well. At all. He was giving it an earnest effort though. Realistically, he knew that Eren wasn't truly gone and he was only a letter away, yet his mind refused to fully believe that. 

During the nights leading up to his departure for college, he was plagued with thoughts of Eren never coming back. Eren finding someone better. Eren moving on. In the light of day it was simple for Armin to push those thoughts aside. Whenever he could, Armin would visit their spot in the woods; it was the best place to go to put himself at ease because that's where he'd fallen for Eren a million times over. His laugh, the awful jokes he made shamelessly and shoved Armin when he wouldn't laugh along, and the way his eyes filtered sunlight in the middle of June. Armin was convinced that he never stood a chance when combating his own feelings. Who would?

Walking the perimeter of the clearing, he studied the creek, the rocks, and kicked the leaves where Eren had broken his arm for the first time. He took his time readjusting their flag pole, re-situating it in the ground so that it stood proudly in the soggy earth. Frayed strands from Eren's mutilated shirt still fluttered in gentle breezes from where they remained wrapped around tree limbs. The pile of metal framework and torn fabric that was meant to be a tent still sat in the same spot they'd left it in the beginning of the summer. 

Butterflies erupted in his stomach when he took a seat on the rock where he'd admitted that he was, in fact, very much in love with Eren Jaeger. Now, though, Eren wasn't there, and the fluttering feeling died away as soon as it had flourished. Suddenly, the rock felt cold and lifeless, and he propelled himself off it as if its surface had burned him.

It was hard not to notice that Eren wasn't there. Noises were muted and colors were dull; nothing was quite as pleasant as it had been before. Life was lackluster now. Dull. Every landmark and square inch of earth held memories. This town had been their stomping ground for so long that Eren was engraved in every part of it, and Armin was ruined because of it. 

Moving day was the worst simply for the fact that he was expected to say goodbye to all of it. The memories he'd made, the friends he'd come to know, and the place he grew up was now in the past. The ghost of his best friend and current long distance lover were to be left firmly behind him as he ventured to a town miles away from Trost's borders. For so long, Armin had looked forward to this day, but now, when reality had made a home nestled in the forefront of his mind, dread had filled the space where eagerness had once been. Growing up didn't settle well with Armin in any aspects.

He tried to call Eren's cell as he over-packed his suitcases, but instead of a vibrant hello, he was only greeted by an empty dial tone. 

The Army hadn't allowed Eren to take a cell phone to basic training, and the line had been cut by his parents the day after he'd left. With his heart boiling in his stomach acid, Armin ended the call. 

He didn't recall when his gut had begun feeling so heavy, but he ignored the sinking feeling and continued shoving bags into the back of his grandfather's coupe, cell phone off and packed along with his other luggage. 

Out of sight, out of mind he hoped. 

Eren wasn't there to struggle through reading a road map while Armin took every possible wrong turn on the road to Stohess. He couldn't help with the struggle of finding a parking space or carrying armloads of bags through an impenetrable mass of equally confused new students. 

Armin was left to his own devices when locating the main office to get his own room key, and he was flat out of luck when he needed Eren to help him find the building he was told he would be staying in. 

It was the middle of the day in the midst of a sea of his peers when Armin realized the cold truth: for the first time in what was soon to be eight years, he was completely and truly alone. 

 

The itinerary Armin had been given for orientation lay on the desk closest to a window that allowed for a brilliant view of the brick face building next door, and his bags were stacked against the bed he'd claimed as his own. Unfiltered sunlight streamed through the window and washed everything in the room in golden rays, but an unnamed darkness swirled in his head and made him dizzy. Something like uncertainty and desperation had melded together and held his optimism in an iron grip.

Anxiety had made a home just under his skin, and his day had only just begun. 

According to his schedule, the first event of the day would be taking ID pictures. Before this moment, Armin would have never guessed that one had to be both physically and emotionally prepared for picture taking, but here he was both looking and feeling like a certified disaster. 

Looking halfway human felt like a distant concept to him, and feeling it was a further stretch still. He had little choice in the matter though, so with a heavy grunt Armin pushed himself onto his feet and dragged himself into the hallway.

It was almost as if he was trudging through slime or that his feet were made of lead. He felt as though he was ready to make friends, learn new things, and take on a new grown-up life on a college campus far from home, but unfortunately that just wasn't the case. Whenever someone would make eye contact, he would drop his gaze without thinking. He could barely speak around new faces, even offering common courtesy things such as "excuse mes" and "thank yous" had escaped his realm of ability. 

He was at a loss, mostly.

Most of the boys who shared his building slid past him without acknowledgment as he ducked through hallways. A couple rare smiles were thrown his way, and when he tried to return them they graced his lips as more of a twisted grimace. 

Effort had to count for something, he figured. 

After minutes of fruitless searching, Armin was finally able to locate a nearly deserted restroom. He wasn't sure where he was in the building, but that was a problem for his future self to be concerned over. Showers lined the farthest wall from the door, and bathroom stalls were spaced evenly along the adjacent wall. From across the room, an extended mirror hung over generic, but clean, looking sinks.

Armin slinked into view of the mirror and tried his best to focus on the reflection of toilets in the background. Once he finally gained the strength to spare a look at himself, it was clear that the bathroom stalls provided a much more pleasant view.

Suddenly, it was very clear why the other guys had avoided even looking at him, much less sparing a smile.

His skin was far more pale than could possibly be healthy, and blue veins could be seen clearly inching up his neck before being covered by the shadow of the stubble he hadn't shaved in three days. His eyes were heavy. Deep purples and angry pinks hung in the skin beneath his eyes creating dark circles that demanded to be seen. His hair was greasy enough to fry chicken in which was probably the direct result of anxiously combing his fingers through it whenever a small nervous wave would tumble over him. 

Mouth turned in a downward slant, Armin sighed as he checked his watch. He'd given himself an hour to fix his face before pictures were scheduled to be taken and he had a lot of work to do with no idea how to go about doing it. 

The others who lived in his building came in and left within minutes only stopping to shower, brush their teeth, and leave with towels slung over exposed shoulders all while Armin remained planted in the same place. He leaned in towards the mirror, pulling at skin to no avail. 

He felt okay most of the time, but that was probably because he was running solely on minimal sleep and caffeine. There was no denying that he reflected that lifestyle in the way he looked.

With a disgruntled groan, he tugged the corners of his mouth into a tight lipped smile before falling back into soft frown. He could almost swore he saw wrinkles. 

"Hey, dude," someone said from behind him, scaring him out of his trance. He jumped back with a gasp and bumped into a boulder of a man. Slowly, he raised his eyes and locked gazes with the boy who stood just behind him, tawny eyes wide with concern. "Sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just wondering if you were okay. You've been looking at yourself like that for a while. I'm getting concerned."

A million different ways to say the word "no" piled onto the tip of Armin's tongue. He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm okay. How are you?"

The boy smirked, "I'm great; probably a lot better than you are honestly."

Armin didn't even attempt to dispute it. "Probably," he agreed. 

"What are you even trying to do?" The stranger asked, studying Armin through the mirror. "I mean, if you need validation, you do look like shit."

Blood flooded the apples of his cheeks, but it was a nice change, Armin noted. At least he didn't share the complexion of copy paper anymore. "I have to take ID pictures soon. I'm fixing, well, this." He motioned towards his face.

"Dude."

"I know," Armin laughed, and though it as humorless it felt nice. 

Paired with a sympathizing smile, his company nodded. "I can try to help if you want me to. I mean, if you wanna sport that look on your card all year be my guest, but-" he shrugged, opting not to finish his sentence. 

"Sure," Armin agreed with little thought. He was getting no where on his own. "Thank you."

The boy hummed and signaled for Armin to follow him with a flick of the wrist, and Armin did. 

Two flights of stairs and three hallways later, the boys entered the west wing of the last floor. "The bathrooms up here haven't been cleaned yet," the boy explained as he fished a room key from the pocket of his sweats, "and I have standards, so I went to the one downstairs."

"Oh," Armin nodded.

"I'm Thomas, by the way," he introduced as he opened the door to his dorm and stepped inside.

Armin ducked beneath Thomas's arm to step fully inside the dorm. It was incredibly similar to his in the fact he, too, had a terrible view and couldn't seem to find the energy to unpack his bags which were stacked in a tall pile at the far end of the room. The only personal touch the room had been given was a cracked full-body mirror which sat propped against the luggage pillar. 

"Just go ahead and sit on the bed," Thomas instructed as he went to work trifling through his bags. "Or on the desk. The floor's fine too. Really, whatever you want to sit on, go ahead and sit on it."

Wordlessly, Armin took a seat on the edge of the nearest bed until Thomas gave a victorious "aha!" and held a small bag up by its drawstrings. 

"Between us guys, Armin. I did say it right, right?"

Armin nodded. 

"Cool. Armin, concealer works on all genders." He paused. "Shampoo does too, in case you didn't know."

Armin caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room and quickly tied his hair into a loose ponytail. Not only did it look disgusting, it felt it.

"Well," Thomas laughed, "you look 80% better already." When Armin grinned, Thomas proceeded to dump his supplies by Armin's hip. "Alright," he cracked his knuckles, "we have a lot of work to do."

 

During the span of half an hour, Armin counted four creams and two powders that were smeared against his skin with the help of a vast army of brushes and sponges. Thomas never uttered a word throughout the entire experience; his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he worked meticulously. 

When, finally, he stepped back an accomplished smile pulled at his thin lips. 

"Cool," he breathed, "turns out you can look human after all." Thomas took another step back and motioned Armin towards the mirror. 

In all honesty, Armin had never had much confidence in magic, but Thomas had managed to turn him into a firm believer. The heavy bags under his eyes had vanished, and his skin was a healthy shade of pink. His eyes were wide and clear as if he hadn't lost a wink of sleep or cried a single tear in his entire lifetime. 

"Huh," Armin laughed, and this time it was genuine, "now if only I could feel it." His smile was strained, but Thomas only beamed brighter. 

"It's gonna be you and me against the world, buddy."

Nodding, Armin whispered a grateful, "yeah. Yeah, I guess it is." He spun on his heels and found himself toe to toe with his new-found friend. "I owe you," he said undisturbed by the proximity. In the end, Thomas was the one to step away and allow them both some space. 

Shaking his head, the other boy flicked his hand through the air. "Don't worry about it. Just keep my methods a secret and you're good as gold."

Once again, Armin thanked him as he began to make his way towards the locked door. "Oh!" Thomas called, "and one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Take a kick ass picture in my honor."

Armin smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

The double thumbs up that Thomas threw his way was the last thing Armin saw before the door closed. 

 

His photo, in the end, was a little less than kick ass, but Thomas still seemed proud.

"Bro, your jawline looks great here," he said, squinting at the card as it glared under the noon sun, "damn, I did good."

Armin rolled his eyes, "that's the third compliment you've given yourself for _my_ face."

"This isn't your face. This is my creation, and I'm still going. Look at those cheekbones. Notice how you don't look like you've been dead for a few weeks. Incredible. I've found my career; why am I even in college again?"

"I'm asking myself the same question, man," Armin's roommate, Samuel, interjected, feet kicked on top of the picnic table that the group frequented every day at noon. 

"Yeah, great question," Armin said, "now give it back." Thomas pouted when Armin ripped his ID card away and tucked it safely into his back pocket.

"Seriously, photocopy that for my portfolio," Thomas instructed. "My specialty can be bringing the dead back to life."

"So... like a mortician," Samuel cackled.

Thomas scowl and threw a comment at Samuel who fired back with some witty remark without missing a beat. Apparently, it was funny enough to make them both throw their heads back with laughter. Armin wasn't listening, but no one seemed to notice that he'd missed out on the joke.

It had been three weeks since classes had started, and Armin wasn't sure how he was doing. He wasn't sad or hurting, but he definitely wasn't happy for a multitude of reasons that he couldn't quite pinpoint.

In years growing up, he'd never noticed how much of who he was was determined by the presence of Eren, and it was an unsettling reality. He didn't really know what he liked to do or what his favorite movie was. Everything he had ever done or enjoyed revolved around if Eren liked it as well, because as long as he was there anything was fun. 

He lost a piece of himself when Eren left, and, unfortunately for Armin, it wasn't a small piece.

Eren was embedded into the depths of his personality, and he was lost without his best friend as a guiding light.

He wasn't really sure of when to smile and how to ensure that his laughter sounded genuine. By no means was he suffering. The dull aching that had made a home in his chest, bleeding into the cracks in his bones and chilling his blood, had up and left. Armin was left with a hollowness. The words he spoke were empty, and his laugh fragile. Mostly, he felt fragile as a whole, but that wasn't stopping him from living on. It was, though, hindering him from moving forward.

He felt stuck in a perpetual loop of needing to talk to Eren for his own well being, and being willing to hurdle any obstacle or ignore any responsibility to do it. 

Armin wrote letters whenever Samuel would sleep. Every night, Armin would wait for the clock's hands to stretch to two AM before crawling out of bed and slumping over the desk that faced the brick wall. He would write until he fell asleep in that exact place.

Samuel would shake him awake in the morning, telling him to lay off the late night homework binges, and the cycle would repeat.

During a regular school week, Armin would allow himself four hours of sleep every night; it worked for him. No one cold tell at all with Thomas masterfully hiding the effects of his sleepless nights.

"You need to go to bed earlier tonight," he would sigh every morning when Armin would appear knocking on his door.

"I will," Armin would promise with his fingers crossed behind his back. 

 

It was a Wednesday night when Armin was finally able to write something he was willing to send. For once he didn't sound mopey or lost, despite the fact that he was, if anything he wrote as if nothing had changed. There was barely even an underlying tone of "I miss the hell out of you, please come home."

Recently, Armin had been living in a constant state of moping, but it was embarrassingly impressive to seem as though he was the same person Eren had known just a couple months before.   

 _Eren,_ he wrote.

_It's been almost a month now, and I'm getting the hang of college. I've made some pretty cool friends who you would probably hate. They're the exact opposite of your, well, **our**  gang of troublemakers from Maria High. (I say that with as much love as possible.) (Have you talked to any of our friends from high school because I haven't. I kind of miss them, don't you?)_

_How's life in the military? Is it all you hoped it would be? How many times have they threatened to kick you out? Don't tell me zero because we both know how you are with strict authority. Don't you lie to me. I know you too well for either of our own goods._

_Are you studying anything? I'm still an undecided major; I didn't really get much time over the summer to think about what I was going to focus on. (I wonder who's fault that was. Eren.)_

_I just wanted to write and let you know that I'm getting by, but I miss you. And here's to hoping that you miss me, too._

_When you come home I expect lots of stories and bravado from a military toughened man, yeah? I'll still be a delicate flower, I'm afraid._

_Write back whenever you get the chance. And don't forget the stamp._

_I love you, so don't forget about me,_

_Yours Truly_

 

It took Armin two full days to work up the nerve to finally send of the letter. The walk to the post office was spent in melodramatic reflection. Naturally. 

In a lot of ways, he felt as though he were trying to connect with a stranger. It was odd to think of talking to Eren and being close to him without some form of physicality. Throughout high school, people had assumed that they'd been secretly dating the entire time. When they were in the same room, they sat, or stood, within an arm's reach.

Thighs against thighs, hands on knees, and elbows linked at sides; they were tactile. Writing was like having to relearn how to communicate. And though Armin didn't mind, he wasn't so convinced that Eren would share the same dedication.

Never once had he doubted that Eren loved him immensely, because when Eren loved something he loved it with a whitehot fire, but he also didn't doubt that distance would be a strain that they may not overcome. The thought made his chest squeeze, but his mind had become dumb to the idea. 

Finally, Armin reached the blue bins outside of the post office, and when the letter landed in the midst of an ocean of others, he sighed with finality. 

He felt heavier as he turned to make his way back home; he took the long way home to hopefully shed the heaviness before his friends could catch on and make something out of nothing.

Sometimes he thought that the masochistic parts of him got off on thinking too deeply about things that didn't deserve his time or energy, and this was most definitely one of those times. A pebble skidded across damp pavement before hopping twice and falling through the slits of a street grate. After a few plinks, water swished and silence resumed. With a sigh he walked on.

Eren had reassured him that nothing would drive them apart before he'd skipped state, and Armin did his best to remind himself of that fact whenever doubt or loneliness would rise up and scratch his throat or prick his eyes with the threat of tears. That promise had held him together for what was soon to be a month, but the solidity of Eren's words had been erased over such a long time with no communication.

He hadn't lost Eren yet, but he felt that he was close to it, and that was almost worse.

Still, he tried to hold onto hope because if there was any form of optimism left in his being, Armin was clinging to it with all he had.

Silently, Armin trekked through alleyways and marched down sidewalks that had long since seen their prime. The buildings that lined them were caving in. They drooped and sagged with missing or shattered windows. Grime was caked into the cracks of the structure, but it was enough to keep them from falling if only by a thread. He memorized a town that would never truly be his with every step his took into it's hidden underbelly. 

He almost liked it better here than he did on campus, he thought. He was hidden and alone with his thoughts. He could tell rotting buildings and stray animals his fears of losing the only person who completed who he was as a person. 

And he did just that.

The hazy sky and sad, abandoned street corners heard him cry. They heard him scream, and they also heard him promise to himself to not give up until Eren did. If he did. 

This was never what he intended his relationship with Eren to be like.

Once he'd resided to sitting on a curb and throwing rocks into the street grate across the blacktop, his phone pinged. His dignity would have been damaged had anyone been around to hear the frightened squeal he released when the noise startled him.

A text message; how long had it been since he'd gotten one of those? Even more foreign was the contact that had sent it.

 

**From: Mikasa Ackerman**

**Hey, Armin. Just checking in; how's life?**

 

Armin frowned at the LCD screen. He didn't want to answer honestly, because there wasn't a single way to say how he was feeling without wallowing in his own pity like he had been all day. But, then again, he knew that if he so much as tried to lie, Mikasa would see through it as if his words were made of crystal. 

 

**To: Mikasa Ackerman**

**Decent.**

 

That about covered it, he figured. He learned quickly, though, that this wasn't the reply she needed when her only response was a firm, "Armin." He could feel her pointed glare even from across the state. 

He had no choice but to amend his response.

 

**To: Mikasa Ackerman**

**Okay,** he typed,  **I've been a little less than decent, but I think everyone was expecting that. It's all okay! Actually, I just put a letter in the post for Eren maybe an hour ago, so everything is still the same. Relatively, at least.**

 

He didn't have to wait long for his phone to buzz, nearly falling from his knee and onto the street. He caught it in his palm on the final vibration, just as it prepared for its plunge. 

 

**From: Mikasa Ackerman**

**Oh, good. That actually part of why I needed to talk to you. Eren sent the family a letter today, but all he wrote was the he needed your address immediately. I was going to be the messenger, but it seems you beat me to it.**

 

The smile Armin wore burned deep under his skin and the deepest parts him him caught that same glow. A familiar happiness overcame him, and he let out a long breath that carried every bad feeling that had plagued him.

Eren still wanted to talk to him. Eren still cared for him. 

In a way, it was concerning how much his happiness depended on the boy who was hundreds of miles away, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care. 

Eren was home, and home was happiness; there was nothing wrong with that. 

 

**To: Mikasa Ackerman**

**Ha, yeah. I'm sorry about that, but it saves you a little trouble, right? It's still nice to hear from you though. How have you been?**

 

Armin stood from his sulking spot in the slums of town and began his hike back to campus, leaving the setting sun to watch his back as he walked. The sky was on fire with orange bursts and red streaks of light filtered through clouds as day gave way to night. 

As he began to climb the stairs to his building, nearly half an hour later, a notification from his phone stopped him in his tracks. 

"Decent," the text read.

Armin frowned, head down, and walked to his dorm without meeting a single eye or offering any smiles. Sometimes, it was easy for Armin to forget that he wasn't the only one who had been affected when Eren took on a new life. He was the sunshine for many, and without him, the darkness of night became harder to bare for all that he had touched. 

Mikasa was strong, but mostly she was strong for Eren's sake. Seeing cracks in her armor made Armin uncomfortable, but most of all it made him worried. 

 

**To: Mikasa Ackerman**

**If you ever need anything, I'm just a phone call and a few hours away.**

 

He couldn't imagine being a rock for the girl who'd acted as a cornerstone for countless years. Still, what else could he say?

Later, much later, when the sun had been consumed by velvety blue and Samuel slept soundly in the bed across the room, Armin received his reply. 

 

**From: Mikasa Ackerman.**

**Yeah,** it read,  **goodnight, Armin.**

 

 

Four days passed uneventfully before Eren's reply arrived in the mail. The apathy that had taken over Armin's daily schedule seemed to burst in brilliant rays when Samuel tossed the letter on the foot of Armin's bed.  

"The lady at the post office said to give that to you," he said as he stripped his jacket off his shoulders, "she also said you can give her a break now." The shrugged that passed over his shoulders was indifferent as he spied on Armin with quick glances. "Stop smiling like that, dude. No one should ever be that happy to get mail. It's probably a bill. Or your parents telling you they moved your shit into the yard." He paused. "That's a fun read."

When Armin didn't answer, Samuel became increasingly curious, sitting hip to hip with Armin on his mattress. "What is it?"

"A letter."

"No shit," he laughed, " who's it from?"

"A long time friend," Armin's explained, "he went into the military. We haven't talked much in a while."

"Sweet, which branch? Marine? Air Force? Please tell me it's the Air Force."

"Army," Armin replied distractedly as he peeled the envelope away. He tried desperately to hide the fact that his hands were shaking and his face was hot enough to glow.

A beat of silence interrupted their conversation, and Samuel lost interest. "I'm gonna meet Thomas at the Union. You coming?" 

"Later," he said whist reading.

"Cool," Armin could hear Samuel shrugging his jacket on in the threshold of their dorm, but he didn't look up, "I'll tell 'em you're busy writing your gay lover."

Armin hummed, and the door clicked closed after a very dramatic roll of the eyes and muttered, "you're no fun, dude."

Once he'd been left alone, Armin flung himself off his bed and perched on his, now cluttered, desk. Sun filtered through the thin parchment and highlighted small dots that darkened the page, as if something had been sprayed. It was only then that he could smell Eren's usual body spray rubbed into his fingertips and lightly scenting the air. 

"Oh my God," Armin past a wide smile, rubbing his thumb along the crease of the page. His chest ached despite the elation he felt.

 _Armin,_  it read,

_Listen, I've only been threatened with dishonorable discharge twice. Did you know that I'm apparently ~~an bad~~ a "terrible" listener. Because thats what i've been hearing. It's an outrage.  _

_I think I made the right ~~decis    disic~~ choice by coming here. I look hot. Trust me. Like hotter than usual (shut up I can hear you laughing from here). Well, I mean I would, but my hair's gone.  I had to shave it because apparently uncle sam has a thing for short haired men. Idk, seems to me that Connie missed an oppertunity when he chose to date Sasha. From what I hear, uncle sam has a lot more money_

_I haven't talked to any of them either. It took me two months to learn how to send a fucking letter after all. I'm good friends with the lady at the post office now, though. I think I'm her favorite person to laugh at. That's ok though._

_I miss you too. The gay hasn't gone away, yet. So I must really love you, huh?_

_I'll be home around Christmas (thank you god how long does it take hair to grow back? you can't see me looking like mr. potato head. ....Or worse. What if I look like Connie?)_

_I promise I'll talk more now.. I know what a stamp does haha_

_Your favorite soldier,_

_Eren Jaeger_

_(P.S I have so much manly bravado and heroic stories to share.)_

 

Quickly, Armin scratched out a reply, and though his write ached and his forearm burned with the intensity of his writing, he didn't stop until he'd completely captured how he felt in that moment. He was giddy and cheerful, much more so than he had been in his first letter. There was so much he wanted to say and no possible way to configure it all into words. Rather, he repeated the phrase "I love you" a sickening number of times, and expressed how much he was looking forward to Christmas.

The optimism that camped out in the back of his mind grew stronger every time Armin read the letter, and it was harder to ignore or drown in personal sulking with Eren's letter tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. 

With his own response locked securely in an envelope, Armin took the stairs leading downwards to the heart of the campus two at a time, and skipped right past his group of friends. Only Thomas called out to him. 

"Where ya goin'?" He called, standing from his usual bench seat. 

"Post office," Armin waved his letter with one hand while covering his eyes from the glare of the sun with the other.

Armin saw Thomas press his lips together though he was blinded by white light. "Mind if I come?"

Shaking his head, Armin dropped his hand, "I don't mind."

Thomas, much like an excited dog, hurdled the table and skidded to a stop by Armin's side. "Sweet, let's go. I haven't been off campus in way too long."

They didn't talk much. Armin offered no conversation, and Thomas spent his time swiveling his gaze to and fro to take in all that the town of Stohess had to offer. As the scenery repeated Thomas seemed to come down from his high. 

"So," he prompted, interrupting the song of nearby birds. "Samuel said you have a boyfriend."

Armin went rigid, but didn't deny it. 

"That's who you've been talking about, right? The old friend you missed. The one who had you all fucked up when I first met you."

Past the strain in his throat, Armin offered a tense shrug. "That wasn't his fault."

"Huh," Thomas pondered the information with his hands interlocked behind his head. "You seem happier right now than you have this entire semester," he observed.

"I am," Armin said honestly, "I really am." 

Thomas nodded, hands in the pockets of his favorite loose jacket. "I'm worried about you, Armin. And I don't really know how to say this without sounding like an asshole."

Armin studied the sidewalk, kicking pebbles as they left the bustle of the city behind. 

"Okay," Thomas cleared his throat, "here's the thing. Are you happy? Like can you function without him?"

"Yes," Armin said immediately.

Nodding, he continued, "I mean obviously you know yourself better than I do. I'm just, yeah, worried. Let's be real here, you're one of my best friends, you know? This just seems toxic. Depending on one person for happiness is like... like, I dunno, breathing through one straw and convincing yourself its enough to survive off of, man. You struggle, but you make it work because it doesn't feel broken. It's what you've always relied on. You're still breathing. Everyone around you sees that it's toxic and that you're suffocating, but bad habits are hard to break, and you cling to that straw like it's a lifeline. I don't want this to be like that. I'm glad you're happy, dude. Seriously, I am so glad that you have someone who makes you light up like the fucking sun on hard drugs, but other things can make you happy too, alright?"

He kicked a pebble toward the street, but it bounced off the side of Armin's shoe and rebounded into the grassy banks that were in desperate need of a haircut. 

"All I'm saying is that it's gonna come to a point where breathing is going to be so difficult that you either have to trash that lifeline for good or die."

"Gee, thanks, Thomas," Armin sighed, hands in pockets. 

"Future therapist material, right?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I'd feel inspired if I wasn't completely fine." Armin raised an eyebrow as he cast Thomas a sidelong glance. His letter to Eren burned against his thigh. 

Thomas frowned, "sounds like something someone breathing through straws would say."

Shrugging, Armin returned his attention to the clear blue sky. Clouds were scarce and the sun was blinding, yet a darkness had found footing inside of him to chase away all of his previous bubbling enthusiasm. "Maybe it is," Armin said and immediately regretted it. The topic died immediately though Armin could see Thomas squirming in his peripheral vision, itching to say more.  

Somehow, mercifully, he kept his opinion to himself, but the damage had been done, Armin thought. The doubt had been planted.

Their silence extended until Armin had dropped his letter into the blue box in front of the post office and the boys turned to make the trek back to campus. 

 

Within the four weeks and three days that preceded Christmas break, Armin received two more letters. In total, he'd gotten three letters in side of a four and a half month span, and slowly Armin was understanding that he was not, in fact, fine. Thomas had been right, he figured. He was breathing through straws.

Day to day, he dragged through the necessary motions though he felt like nothing more than dead weight. His mind was elsewhere. Shut down, MIA, useless without the company of Eren. He was his every thought and wish, and despite his efforts and attempts at contact, he could only find himself becoming increasingly alone.

He sent letters daily now. 

On the rare days when Eren's replies would arrive, Armin would feel himself come back to life. At first, he thought it was a good thing. Eren made him happy, and there was no shame in that, but the longer time and absence dragged him through the mud, he realize that his fixation was unhealthy.

Eren was essentially his very soul, and Armin wasn't quite sure who he was without Eren by his side, or at least in constant contact through pieces of paper. 

He felt as though he was having to rebuild himself from the ground up, though nothing had broken him down.

He was never whole to begin with.

He was dependent. He was weak. And he'd ruined himself over the years by caring too much about the boy across the street and ignoring his own needs as a human being. Still, he loved Eren more than words could say. His heart tripped over it's own beat whenever he'd read that handwriting on the front of sealed envelopes and his fingertips would tingle with electricity as they grazed pages of memories and laughable stories that Eren shared.

He loved Eren so much, and he hated himself for it. 

On the day he packed his bags to come home for Christmas, Armin could feel his chest growing tight with both anticipation and severe anxiety. 

Ignoring the problem at hand, Armin gasped through his straw once more and went back to sitting on suitcases while Thomas struggled to zip them closed. Whenever he would ask if Armin was alight, Armin would nod, huff, and grab another armful of clothes. 

 

On December 10th, students filed into vehicles and raced off campus, intent on making their home-bound journeys quick. Armin, on the other hand, killed the entire day by wandering around campus, visiting the coffee shop while the employees cleaned and packed up supplies for the extended vacation, and lounging around outside on a throne of his own luggage.

Samuel found him outside the Student Union, hauling a single drawstring bag with him. 

"What's up, Armin?" He asked as he took seat in the grass by Armin's side. 

"Waiting for the crowds to thin," Armin lied through his teeth. 

Samuel nodded. "It's gonna be weird coming back and no having my favorite nerd as a roommate anymore."

Armin hummed. "You'll probably get a new and improved nerd. Nerd 2.0."

He offered a weak smile before raised his scarf over his mouth and nose. Samuel folded himself further into his heavy coat. "I'll make sure he knows that the doesn't compare to you. I got you covered."

"How kind," Armin said on the tale-end of soft laughter. "I'm swooning."

Samuel reached for his bag and retrieved a pen and paper to scrawl on. He pushed the folded note into Armin's palm. "That's my number. Call me whenever you feel like complaining about how shitty and boring being at home is."

"I-" Armin studied the numbers, "thanks. I'm sure you'll hear from me by midnight."

"Counting on it," Samuel nodded as he stood, slapping Armin's back. "See ya, Legout. I got a car ride to suffer through."

Armin fanned his fingers in a curt wave and watched as his friend's outline vanished in a small pool of student's who remained on campus. When the weather became unbearably cold, Armin was finally able to talk himself into collecting his bags and making the long walk to his parked car. There was a problem, though, and that problem stemmed from the fact that his limps were stiff, frozen, and unwilling to carry a few bags. Much less armloads. 

He tried valiantly, and failed embarrassingly, to collect his own bags until he'd almost decided to sleep on the school lawn.

"Need any help?" A distant voice called from behind where Armin stood. Immediately, he whirled around.

Armin nodded feverishly. "Do you mind?"

The stranger gave a cheeky smile before he began to jog to where Armin was fighting with his bags, but the smile was all he could see. The other boy had his hat pulled down well past his ears and the air fogged from his own labored breathing.

But when he stopped, just inches away, Armin almost forgot how to breathe at all. 

"Marco?" He sounded horse, and he couldhear his own heartbeat. 

The smile reappeared, bigger and brighter. "I thought that was you."

There was a mountain of words Armin wanted to say, but all he could physically bring himself to do was fling himself at Marco, arms locked around his neck.

With an amicable chuckle, Marco's strong arms held Armin firmly in place. 

"I didn't know that I'd ever see you again," Armin laughed, "especially not here."

"Small world," Marco said releasing his grip. "So, you needed help with your bags?"

"Please."

 

Armin teetered to the car as joints were still not agreeing with the cold. Marco, on the other hand, handled his pile of bags like a champ while picking up things Armin dropped along the way. 

"How was the semester for you?" Marco asked, stooping down to pluck another item off the concrete. 

There weren't words to accurately describe the semester, Armin thought, it was some conglomeration of emotionally testing, taxing, and miserable. He'd made friends though, so that had to be some kind of plus. His classes had also been passed with high grades despite all the self reflection that happened inside classrooms. 

He was almost sure he couldn't remember what a single one of his professor's had sounded like, or which classes he'd taken at all. 

"Long," he settled on. 

Marco hummed his agreement. "I can understand that," Armin could hear his smile, "hopefully it wasn't bad, though."

Armin stopped and scanned the lot, causing Marco to bump into him. Stumbling back, he offered a timid apology. When Armin spotted his grandfather's car, he picked up the pace once again. Marco followed at a safer distance. 

"Are you going home for Christmas?" Armin swiveled his gaze to lock with Marco's. The moment lasted a split second, but his face still heated. It was a familiar feeling. He wanted to panic, but rather he felt calm. The frayed nerves he expected were combed over and replaced with a nervous flip of his stomach. 

Shaking his head, Marco was the first to break eye contact. "It's kind of hard for mom to come here. She has a hard time getting around as it is, y'know? It was enough to ask her to take me here in the first place. It just isn't feasible." When he caught Armin's frown he quickly dove in for reassurance. "It's okay, though! It's okay, don't worry about me at all. I'll go home over the summer. It'll be easier that way, and I'm okay with it. A few of my friends are staying, and everything!"

Shoving the last of his things in the trunk, Armin whirled around and leaned against the frame of the car. "We have to go and pack your bags."

"What?"

"Take me to your dorm; I'll help you pack," Armin instructed as the other boy slammed the trunk closed.

Marco splayed his hands in front of himself frantically, "No! No, that's seriously okay. I didn't mean to be a bother. I just wanted to talk to you again." The smile that pulled at his lips seemed sad, but genuine. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Good thing you're not asking," Armin pushed off the car and took Marco by the sleeve. "And don't say you're a bother, because you live maybe two blocks away. And that's pushing it. Show me where you live."

With slumped shoulders, Marco finally caved. He was no good in arguments. Armin smiled triumphantly as he was dragged back through campus. Subconsciously, he held on to Marco's sleeve the entire way. 

 

Armin had expected packing to take hours upon hours, rather, Marco's closet was sparse. It took two suitcases and fifteen minutes before Marco was playfully kicking Armin out the door. 

"Thank you for this, Armin," his voice was soft as he locked the door behind him. "Mama's going to be so surprised. She's always liked you, and I think she might propose to you after this."

"Just tell her I like tiger's eye better than diamond."

Marco laughed and ruffled Armin's hair from behind. "I can do that."

 

There was nothing more to expect from the car ride than frigid awkward silence, but reality was much kinder. 

Not a second was wasted on useless small talk or silence, rather they sang to the blaring radio, shared stories from college, and talked about how their home lives had continued after they'd cut all communication. It was almost as if there had never been a lapse in their friendship at all.

Pulling into the Bodt's gravel driveway brought their conversation to a simmer until it finally died away. The house had suffered in Marco's absence. The, now dead, grass was shaggy and littered with weeds. The fading vinyl siding was in desperate need of a hefty scrubbing, and the first step on the front porch at fallen from where it had been nailed down years before.

Marco's personality shifted, and he turned into a composed and responsible version of the boy Armin was used to seeing. "Well, I won't be bored, huh?" His laughter was uneasy as he studied the state of his own home. 

"You helped me stain my porch," Armin said, "and you helped me carry my bags. I owe it to you to help out with lawn work." 

"You don't owe me-"

"I want to help," Armin said simply. 

Marco sighed and shook his head, though a ghost of a smile lit his face where shadows resided. "Thanks again, Armin. I appreciate you so much."

His chest squeezed, so Armin nodded wordlessly as he backed out of the drive and lost sight of Marco's waving silhouette as he descended the steepest hill on the avenue. 

 

Armin swore he could hear the distant sounds of Mikasa screaming as her sled gained air. He could see the mirage Eren standing at the top of the hell, waiting anxiously for his turn while Armin himself shifted his weight and awaited his sure end. 

Despite the years that had passed, the memories were clear as day. They were children then. They had no idea what the future would hold for them, and Armin was jealous of the past. Always jealous of the past and striving to regain it. 

He wasn't sure when the tears had began to fall, but he sat in his drive way and allowed himself to sob until all he could do was heave and fall limp against the steering wheel. 

He didn't have a future. He wasn't a part of the future he'd dreamed of because mentally he was caught in the idea of the past. 

He loved Eren. He loved staying the night at the Jaeger's. He loved Eren throwing rocks at his window and killing nights with him in the clearing in the woods.

He loved what had been far too much to let it go.

Thomas's voice banged around in his skull like the devil sitting on his shoulder, and he clung to that same straw like a lifeline in spite of it. 

Once he'd collected himself and his eyes no longer burned, he pushed himself out of the rickety coupe and was greeted by his grandfather the minute he walked through the door. 

He was caught in a hug before he'd even had the chance to step over the threshold. Armin clung to the other man tightly, fingers digging in well worn fabric. With all the time he'd spent pining over writing letters to Eren, never once had he called home. Guilt gnawed at his gut. 

"It's so good to see you, son," his grandfather's voice seemed to quiver, "this house is mighty empty without you here."

"Move in with Jaegers," Armin offered to lighten the mood, "that's what I did."

His grandfather nodded as he took a step away. "That's not far from a lie, now is it?" His chuckle was light and breathless. 

Armin smiled as he looked over the house. Streamers swept across the ceiling, balloons created a sea across the carpeted floor, and a cake sat on the bar at the far end of the kitchen. A sad banner drooped just above the arching entrance to the dining area. 'Welcome Home.'

It was almost an exact replica of the house on his sixteenth birthday. 

Though he thought he'd run out of tears, he was wrong. "I missed you," his voice shook and dropped to nothing more than a fragile whisper. 

A strong hand clapped against his shoulder when his grandfather took the spot by his side. "It's safe to say that I missed you too."

 

Armin dialed Samuel's number that night. 

"Well damn," a familiar voice said in the midst of eerie quiet, "you weren't kidding."

"You'll never guess what kind of day I've had," Armin said. His stomach churned and his eyes were glued to the popcorn ceiling.

"Probably not," Samuel responded, "but I've got all the time in the world for you to tell me about it."

It was completely unintentional, but Armin took half of the night telling his life story. First, he mentioned moving to the Avenue. Armin talked about his first sleepover with Eren, their first trip into the woods, and friendship building through middle school -Samuel was especially a fan of Connie-. Armin was an open book about Annie and how jealous he'd always been of her, his brief relationship with Marco, and how his parents' plane crash had essentially made him drop out of school for an entire semester. Samuel learned about Bobby and how he'd ruined his life only to turn around and fix it in Summer School. Armin recited his Valedictorian speech and reluctantly told him about finally breaking down and telling Eren the truth about how he was feeling.

Armin took more time to explain the magic of the previous summer than he'd taken to give his entire life story. Dutifully, Samuel listened without saying a word. 

Finally, he explained Thomas's theory about straws and slow suicide, but refused to acknowledge how much it had affected him. 

"And, so, here we are. Marco is back. Eren is in the military. And I don't know who I am without him here; all I know is that," Armin sighed, "I'm kind of lost. Honestly."

There was a beat of silence before Samuel cleared his throat. "Damn," he said, voice gruff from his unbroken silence. "This Eren guy. You're gonna see him over break, right?"

"Right," Armin confirmed. 

"You don't sound excited."

"I'm scared, mostly," he was reluctant to admit, "I feel like once I see him again, letting go will only be harder because I know how I fare with him gone. I know how empty I'll feel. I know I'll be sad and alone and I'll write to him daily and settle for three letters every five months. I love him, but I don't love this."

Hot tears traced the apples of his cheek.

"'If you love something set it free,'" Samuel quoted, "'if it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be."

The tears flowed more heavily and his insides seemed to shrink and tangle with themselves. Sharp pains shot through his gut and pierced his chest. "I don't know if I can do that."

"Maybe you'll get lucky, and he'll do it for you."

"Yeah," Armin's voice was failing him. It quivered and squeaked under the weight of reality, "lucky."

 

From what Eren had said in his last letter, he was expecting to arrive home on December 13th at noon, and Armin waited around anxiously until then. 

He visited his parents' graves twice day and wrote letters to read them to kill the time. He visited the spot in the woods until he felt too sick to stand the loneliness he felt there. He kicked gravel down the sledding hill and walked through the park, sitting in the middle of the tennis courts where they'd pelted Connie with balls.

The courts provided tennis rackets now. 

The cafe that Armin had visited with Eren daily was still open and he spent hours within its walls, talking to elderly neighbors and occasionally teachers from high school who were enjoying their time off. They always asked how he was doing. He lied every time.

On the 13th, Armin didn't leave his house. He parked himself on the front porch stoop, in the exact spot where Eren sat when waiting to walk him to school, and stared holes into the Jaeger house. He waited endlessly for Eren's sedan to creep around the bend and onto the loud, popping gravel, but the longer he sat, the quieter the road seemed to be. 

Soon, noon had come and gone, and the early afternoon was falling away to the darkness of night. The moon became more defined against the violet sky, and still Carla's minivan was the only vehicle in the neighboring driveway. 

His grandfather brought dinner out to him, and shared a seat on the stairs though the cold was biting. 

"Maybe he got the date wrong," he said, needing no explanation as to why Armin had spent his day on the front porch without even his phone to distract him. 

Armin's voice was dry and apathetic. "Maybe."

"Don't you worry, my boy," a reassuring arm held Armin an iron grip until he relented and let his head rest on his grandfather's shoulder. "You'll see him again. You just gotta have a little patience, hope, and a whole lot of love."

"Two out of three isn't so bad," Armin said. 

His grandfather was quiet for a long time. "Depends on what you're waiting for, I suppose."

 

Hope began to dwindling when the fourteenth passed without a sign of life from the Jaeger household, and the fifteenth passed just the same. No phone calls, no texts, not even a single fucking carrier pigeon, and Armin felt as though he was on the brink of a breakdown.

He'd planted himself on the front porch step dutifully, determined to be the first one to welcome his boyfriend home. Hope dwindled, faith died, and his patience was shot, but unfortunately the love remained. The love _always_ remained and he was becoming accustomed to the emptiness in his chest or the lack on feeling that swam through his blood. He barely noticed the things happening around him. His grandfather brought food to him for every meal like clockwork, but it only piled up by his side. Neighbors waved at him on their daily jogs, but he stared straight through them.

His head hurt, he couldn't find the energy to move, and he felt more sick than he had in years.

The feeling brought him back to junior year, and a sadness that he'd stuffed away long enough to believe it couldn't come back to haunt him was finally resurfacing.

He hadn't cried when he was told about his parents' accident. Actually, he didn't cry for two months. Rather, he shut down. He was cold, numb, and unable to process any thought that didn't concern his own sadness. He rarely left his room, only eating when he was hungry, drinking when he was thirty, and using the restroom as nature demanded. Otherwise, he slept.

He became a machine, functioning only because he had to, and living on because it was expected of him. Tears didn't come to him though, not until winter settled in and he didn't smell their favorite brew in the kitchen. Silence had taken over the space where their voices would be as they reminisced over the past year. During the winter they would recall every person hey'd ever helped and every town they had ever visited. They would plan future trips and ask Armin if he wanted to tag along for this one.

His missed their laughter and the love the emitted, even if they scared him at times.

He missed his parents. They didn't deserve to die, yet they did, and that's when the sucker punch to the gut came and the tears didn't leave him for days.  

Now, on the day before Christmas, Armin sat in his usual place. His eyes were no longer locked on the house next door, rather his head was tucked between his knees and he rocked slowly to sooth the gnawing depression in the pit of his stomach.

"He's not coming home," Armin whispered to himself, though he was almost sure he'd heard the front door open. "He's not coming home."

That was his chant as the first of the tears fell, and then slowly, the storm that had built up inside finally busted free and he found himself sobbing in broad daylight. The sun shone down on his shame. The joggers witnessed his misery. The children who plays down the block retreated back indoors, and his grandfather closed the front door to give him his own space.

He was alone. He couldn't breathe, and he didn't have it in himself to throw away that stupid god damn straw.

Thomas had given him the ultimatum of throwing Eren out or rolling over and dying, and it seemed he'd made his choice. 

With his cheek pressed against cold and unforgiving wooden slats, Armin watched as yet another sunset passed him by, and Eren was no where to be seen. 

 

On Christmas Day, Armin rarely left his room. Rather, much like in the past, he ate, he drank, he showered, and he slept. The pattern continued for the next two days until his grandfather interrupted his selfish pity party, disgruntled and annoyed.

"Armin," he started, "the computer's been making an odd noise for the past half hour. Can you please make it stop? I promise I'll leave you alone after that, but it's about to drive me batty."

Armin didn't offer an argument. He simply rose from bed, walked mechanically downstairs and into the small office space his grandfather had set up in his absence. The original plan had been to unplug the whole system and retreat to his room undisturbed, but the source of the sound almost made him laugh.

An AIM message.

Actually, seven of them. All from Marco.

**Hey, Armin!**

**Armin?**

**Okay, I know this is ancient and you probably haven't been online in 3 years**

**But I wanted to ask if you wanna come over and help with yard work :P**

**Armin?**

**I should've asked for your phone number**

**This was a bad plan :(**

 

Armin took all of five seconds to reply.

**Give me half an hour**

 

Before he'd even had time to unplug the machine, it pinged once more. 

**:)**

 

Armin showered, dressed, pulled his hair into a stubby ponytail and offered his grandfather a short hug when he was halfway out the door.

The frozen winter air breathed new life into him. He didn't feel quiet as dead, and breathing became easier than it had been within the past few weeks. He opted to walk to Marco's; his body had definitely earned the much needed exercise.

"You actually came!" Marco screamed despite the fact that Armin had just topped the hill and was still a good quarter of a mile from were he stood in his front lawn. 

"Would I lie to you?" Armin called back, pulling the sweater his grandfather had given him closer across his chest. 

That familiar smile spread across Marco's face and his eyes formed crescents over his rounded cheeks. Armin laughed through his nose and couldn't help but to smile a little too. 

 

"Okay," Armin said as he sunk ankle deep into Marco's lawn. "What's the game plan?"

Marco arched an eyebrow as he stepped closer to Armin. His observant eye made Armin flinch. "Armin, have you been eating?"

"Yeah, of course," Armin replied, looking past Marco and studying the vinyl siding of his house with great interest. 

Sighing, Marco reached out and pulled his chin back. Armin allowed him to do so though he felt himself blush at the contact. He blamed the unforgiving wind for the redness that blossomed on his cheeks. 

"You know the last time you looked like this," Marco said cautiously. 

"Yes. I do."

"What has Eren said about it?"

"Nothing. How can he when he's not around?" Armin sounded bitter because he was, but his voice was far less hurt than his heart was. 

Marco didn't pry, or invade Armin's personal life with his own opinions and moral based stories. "I'm going to make us some coffee," he said, "and then you get the choice of weeding or fixing the front step first."

Armin followed Marco as he took the porch steps two at a time. "Let's get the weeding out of the way. I think it'll be the most painful."

"You're probably right."

 

While Marco brewed coffee, Armin spent time reconnecting with his mother who was seated in her normal recliner, oxygen tank by her side. Marco had gotten her smile, and there was no denying it. 

"Ah, you've gotten even more beautiful to look at,  _wicht_. How have you been?" She wrapped her arms around his neck in a loving embrace.

"Great," he lied, "school is going well, and I made a lot of friends. Now that I know that Marco is there, it's going to be even better" And that was almost the truth. 

"I'm so glad you two are friends," she beamed though her eyes were closed, "my baby made a good friend when he found you."

"Thank you," Armin bit at the inside of his cheek with embarrassment, and Marco cleared his throat from the entryway of the kitchen. Armin swore he was blushing, though he was looking away. "Well," Armin patted her hand, "I'll be back. I'm going to go and help Marco with the yard work."

She hummed and tilted her head back against the headrest. "You boys be good now." The closed-lipped smile she wore bordered on more suggestive than it was kind.

If he hadn't been before, Marco was definitely blushing now. 

 

The lawn work took forever, but Armin was grateful for it. 

It allowed him time away from his own home, and gave him a break from obsessively watching the house across the street, though he was now resigned to the fact that nothing was going to change. 

The knees of his jeans had gained vibrant grass stains and his fingers had gone numb by the time two hours had passed, but even when Marco would offer breaks he would only shake his head and say there was work to be done. 

When the sun had completely vanished by eight that night, they'd gone through three cups of coffee and had laughed until Armin's cheeks physically hurt. Really, every part of Armin ached, and the climb to the second level of Marco's house almost turned into a crawl by the time he reached the last three stairs.

Marco carried him the rest of the way up while ignoring his weak protests. 

The upper-level of the Bodt household had been converted into Marco's bedroom. His mattress was placed in the floor, and furniture was lined along a singular wall while the majority of the space was taken by a television and ratty sofa that was well past its prime. 

While Marco opted to lounge on the sofa, Armin was content to sit on the floor with his head resting against Marco's knee. 

They'd watched two movies after retiring from yard work, and while the last of the credits rolled, Armin crawled towards the closest window to examine the stars that dotted the inky sky. It dripped into the treeline and made differentiating between heaven and earth impossible.

"I can walk you home," Marco offered, standing and cracking his joints. 

"Oh, no, no that's okay," Armin winced and hissed through his teeth when Marco flicked the lights on. Though his eyes literally burned, it was quite a bit easier to tie his shoes this way.

"You're not walking home alone," Marco said firmly, arms crossed.

Watching silently from his kneeling position, Armin grinned. "I'm a big kid now. I promise I can make it home."

Marco shook his head. "Either I walk with you, or you stay here."

When Armin didn't answer, Marco made the decision for them both.

"Okay, so you're staying here. Good choice."

He stepped around Armin and descended the stairs before reappearing with an armful of blankets. Most of them were thrust into Armin's arms while Marco held onto two of them and nestled back into the comfort of the couch. 

"Did you want to watch another movie?" Armin asked, puzzled. His eyebrows knit together as he toed his shoes off once again. 

"We can tomorrow if you want," a long yawn sliced Marco's sentence down the middle, "but as for right now, I would prefer to sleep I think."

Armin crossed his arms against his torso, holding the blankets securely. "But you're on the couch."

"Right," he confirmed.

"This is your house, you get the bed."

"That's not how it works," Marco laughed and raised his forefinger to silence Armin before he could make any arguments. "Goodnight, Armin."

Eyes flicking between where Marco lay and the mattress in the corner of the room, Armin finally broke with a huffing sigh as he trudged towards the bed.

"Goodnight, Marco."

In the comfort of Marco's company, Armin slept soundly that night.

He was simply tired from the lawn work, he reasoned. He was only physically tired enough to sleep without nightmares, cold sweats, or stabbing pains when he would remember his loneliness. 

The rhythm of Marco's steady breathing and the warmth of his presence hardly contributed at all. 

 

Every day that remained of Armin's Christmas vacation was spent at Marco's house. They finished the weeding, mowed in the dead of winter, pressure washed house's siding, and even figured out how to use a nail gun, after much trial and error, to fix the front porch step. 

As hours turned to days and weeks, Armin found that he thought less about what Eren may be doing or who he may be with. 

Still, during the cover of night, when Marco was sound asleep, Armin would find it impossible not to think himself into a deep depression. Why was he not worth coming back for? Why was he not worth writing to? He thought that Eren considered him worth the effort, but distance was proving him wrong.

Fate was cruel, reality heartless, and deep inside, Armin knew how limited his worth was without Eren there to prove otherwise.

He was becoming a good actor though, he thought, even managing to fool himself.

"Hey," Marco whispered through the hazy veil of night, voice heavy with fatigue. "Scoot over. I heard you crying, and I brought tissues."

Wordlessly, Armin propped himself against the wall and held his knees against his chest to keep his insides from spilling out. Marco didn't try for conversation; he sat the box by Armin's thigh and plucked a sheet to dab at the wetness on Armin's cheeks and the trail along his jaw. 

"I'm sure he'll be here next Christmas," Marco whispered, balling the tissue in his fist. "He misses you too, I bet."

Though he whimpered, Armin managed a strong nod. 

He fell asleep leaning into Marco's side and woke to Marco's around around his back and his cheek pressed against the crown of his head.

 

On Tuesday, January 15th, both boys packed their things, now freshly washed, and crammed them back into the limited space of the old, rusted coupe. Armin hugged his grandfather and promised calls this semester while Marco was nothing but smiles and sunbeams as he promised his mother that he would see her in only a few months. 

She thanked both of the boys for their hard work with homemade sweets and two kisses on each cheek. 

Once goodbyes had been said and luggage was packed, Armin and Marco found themselves on the road to their home away from home. Unlike before, they sat closer, arms pressed against one another on top of the console. In their proximity, their fingertips nearly intertwined.

Marco spoke distractedly as he watched the neighborhood pass through the passenger's side window. Armin gave him his undivided attention, listening so intently that for the first time, he didn't give Eren's home a single glance as they passed.

He'd be lying if he denied watching the house vanish in the rearview though.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin is finally confronted by the crushing reality he's been avoiding for so long: he has to leave Eren in his past.  
> He's left with picking up the pieces and figuring out how to move on from the only person who ever made him feel truly whole. Their relationship was toxic, but addictive, and Armin can't seem to let go.

The drive home was painted in muted greys and pale white silence . All the vibrancy from the beginning of the trip had washed away in a sea of white noise that spewed from the radio. Armin sat silent behind the wheel, eyebrows knit and lost in his own mind. Marco leaned against the window, unfazed when his skull bounced painfully off of the glass.

The radio had been turned down so low that only the skipping heartbeat of the engine filled the empty air between Marco and Armin. 

Lifeless buildings and cracked sidewalks passed in inconsistent blurs as Marco studied the outside world. Mostly, he, like Armin, focused more on his thoughts than the passing scenery.  He wondered what it was like to live in Armin's head this past year. He'd found his major high and now the bottom had dropped out, and he was falling. He was falling fast and hard, and Marco could tell that Armin was waiting for the inevitable crash. He wouldn't admit it to himself, though.

His eyes seemed empty when Eren wasn't around. Even when they'd distanced themselves in high school, Armin had seemed alive. Maybe he was electrified by being in the same vicinity as Eren, Marco couldn't be sure. He was sure, though, that he'd never seen a duo quite like the two of them. They were fire and ice, but they melded together perfectly. They toned one another down into a happy medium, and by looking at Armin now, it was clear that he wasn't quite whole.

His face was paler now, an impossibly bleached tone. His fingers shook on the wheel and his lips were an angry shade of red from Armin's insistent biting. 

He was on edge. Even when he tried to put a strong facade, it was never a good one. Marco wasn't sure of very many things, but he was absolutely positive that Armin was suffering far more than he wanted anyone to believe. Eren had acted as his strength, and it was evident that Armin was lost without his guiding light. They'd been the very best match for each other, and in the end it had set them both up for failure.

Marco wondered what it was like to love someone that passionately, but by studying Armin he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. 

With a restless sigh, Marco re-positioned himself against the car door. He wanted to help, but there were no words that could heal the type of hurt that brewed in Armin's very soul.

He didn't know what to say, or if there was anything to say at all, so he remained to himself, eyes closed, and waited to arrive back on campus.

 

When the car veered left, Marco curiously raised his gaze. He wasn't sure if he should be surprised - Marco supposed he shouldn't be as the post office was the first building that greeted students into the college town - but, he was.

"I'm sorry," Armin said once Marco had pushed himself upright and was fully alert. "I just- I don't know. Maybe he could've, you know maybe sent something- I don't know." Nervous hands fiddled with the seat belt latch fruitlessly, and he remained locked in place until Marco reach over and freed him. His lips were pulled into a thin smile. 

"Don't apologize," Marco said, pulling his arm back into his own lap. The grateful smile Armin offered made Marco's head buzz, and inevitably made him stumble stupidly over his words. "I mean- he I think he probably sent something. He had time to and all."

"Yeah," Armin nodded, "here's to hoping, right?" The blinding light behind his eyes was almost physically painful. The hope never died for Eren to come back, and Marco would never be the one to take his place.

"I'll be waiting to hear all about it," Marco called to deaf ears. Armin had already hiked through the parking lot and was making his way inside. 

Dutifully, Marco waited. He waited as the chill from outside seeped through cracks in the car's doors and windows, and he could see his own breath. Unfazed, he sat through it with eyes locked on the government building's front door. His fingers were numb from how tightly they clung to his jacket, probably partially frozen. 

Finally, Armin reappeared when he peaked his head outside and surveyed the parking lot as if he was formulating an escape route. With great hesitancy, he stepped out. One foot slowly followed by the other led him onto icy asphalt. Marco could the the outline of a tightly clenched fist pressed against the pockets of Armin's jeans. 

His eyes darted. Armin made eye contact with anything and everything with the exception of the car and Marco himself. Eye contact wasn't required to see the angry red veins that spider-webbed their way across Armin's eyes or the way the red that ringed his eyes had deepened in color. He could see the way his chest shook when he exhaled and the tear spots that stained the sleeves of his jacket. He never seemed to take it off. Marco wasn't going to be the one to ask, but he was relatively sure that Eren had owned it first. 

Eventually, Armin side stepped towards the car and sunk into the driver's side, eyes piercing the windshield as if he didn't notice that Marco was there at all. He didn't say a word, and he didn't have to. 

"We'll come back tomorrow," Marco offered, "and we'll come back every tomorrow after that, because I heard the weather's been pretty bad around here. There's probably just a postal delay, but it'll come sometime, and we'll be ready for it."

"Yeah," Armin nodded, "it's a postal delay." His voice was rough and broke near the end when it became lodged in his throat. 

When Marco moved to place a hand on Armin's forearm, the tears bubbled up and raced down his cheeks, and Marco felt his throat go dry as sympathy pooled in his chest. 

"Come on," he said, "you're in no condition to drive. Sit over here and I'll take us home."

Armin gave a feeble argument but lost the battle with little remorse, and they swapped seats. 

 

Armin rested with his face pressed flush against the window while Marco cautiously drove  _well_ below the speed limit. Overhead, Armin noticed that the clouds had burst and fat raindrops dove towards the earth in a downpour. They chased each other along the glass before reaching the windows edge and exploding into thousands of tiny droplets. 

Armin wondered if it was a raining where Eren was. He wondered if the rain reminded him of Armin's absence or if he even thought of him at all. These days, the latter was beginning to seem more and more likely. 

 

Somehow, the boys managed to make it to campus with daylight to spare, and Marco was beaming with how well he drove. Armin, refusing to crush his spirit because though it was slow, at least they didn't  _die,_ nodded. "Thank you," he said once the engine had been cut.

Marco hummed curiously as he lifted the trunk and begin piling bags of luggage onto the scraped parking lot. Beyond where they stood, snow was piled high along the campus grounds. Everything was bleached and bright, and the sun glaring off its surface was blinding. Armin turned away and stared back into the shade. "For what?" he finally asked as the last bag was placed on top of the wobbly structure Marco had made. 

Originally, Armin had only thought to thank him for the driving, but what didn't he have to thank Marco for? Thanks for driving. Thanks for going home with me. Thanks for letting me see your mom again. Thanks for keeping me out of my house and away from the one across the street. Thanks for holding me on those nights when I got too sad. Thanks for being my friend. Thanks for existing.

Thanks for being you. 

In the end, Armin only shrugged. "For everything."

Though he raised a curious eyebrow, Marco nodded. "If you ever need anything just let me know, okay?"

Armin nodded. 

There was a lull in their conversation which led to extended eye contact and biting of lips, but the car that swerved into the lot and nearly took out a street lamp was a big enough distraction to make them look away. The kids in the other car were loud and sought attention as they threw their bags from the car to see which of them could land one in the unmarred snow a few yards away.

"Okay," Marco said, bringing Armin's attention back to him. "I separated the bags. This pile," he pointed to the smaller of the two, "is the light stuff, and this one," he motioned towards the larger and more structurally sound pile, "is heavy stuff. That's yours and this is mine."

"I'm not letting you carry all the weight," Armin protested, "that isn't fair."

"Armin, it's okay," Marco laughed, and the brilliant smile that it resulted in was enough to warm Armin to the core. "This is how I planned it."

"And now I'm changing it because it isn't fair. We'll split it down the middle, because to be honest I'm pretty sure all the baggage you're carrying is mine."

"So be it," Marco said as he crouched and grabbed all of the bags by their handles. "I like helping," his eyes were soft and genuine, and Armin sighed. "Okay, now you pick yours up, and we'll have a race."

"Yeah?" Armin asked and sniffled. His nose was still runny from all his sulking on the way home, and he was glad that he didn't check how he looked before getting out of the car. Marco didn't seem too repulsed at least. "What do I get if I win?" 

Marco studied the sky, eyes squinted and in deep thought. "I'll buy you dinner tonight. Anywhere in town."

"And if you win?" Armin felt his lip between his teeth.

"I get the chance to buy you dinner anywhere in town."

Armin laughed vividly, and something in his chest seemed to heal. He wasn't sure how he could possibly go on being sad around Marco when he was the incarnation of the sun. "I don't know," he pondered, "seems like I'm getting the short end of this deal."

"Yeah," Marco shrugged, "you have to be seen in public with me regardless."

"How will I ever cope?"

Marco had taken his position at the starting line, bags thrown over his shoulders and on top of his back. Armin did the same. 

"Ready?" Marco asked.

"No," Armin laughed while tightening his grip on the luggage he'd been assigned.

"Great," Marco smiled so that his eyes became nothing more than slits. "Go!"

Armin wasn't sure, but he was relatively positive that they were running the slowest race in human history. Marco stumbled through the snow and tumbled forward more often than he stayed on his feet; meanwhile, Armin sturggled to hold onto all the bags he'd been offered. They may have been light, but they were by no means aerodynamic. Armin tripped over his own feet and lost a handful of bags as he fell, and when Marco looked back to laugh he found himself falling in the same way.

By the time they'd both reached the finish line, the Main Building Staircase, they were soaked, frozen to the bone, and smiling from ear to ear. 

"I think it was a tie," Armin huffed, stooping to catch his breath. 

Marco reached to take the majority of the bags Armin was carrying and slung them over his shoulder. "You're probably right," he paused to take in a deep breath, "how about we go to dinner to celebrate our equality."

Armin smiled and shrugged, pulling his remaining bags over his shoulder with a clenched fist. "Or we can go just because I really want to have dinner with you."

With eyes the size of saucers, Marco stumbled over every word he wanted to say, but he was cut short by Armin's ringtone. Immediately, he dropped the bags and searched himself for his phone, answering without checking the caller ID. 

"ARMIN!" Samuel screamed in lieu of a decent hello.

Armin winced and pulled the phone away just long enough to ensure that he hadn't lost the hearing in his right ear. "Hey," he laughed.

"I have a question for you."

"Okay."

"Your friend, Marco," Samuel began.

Armin stole a glance upward. Marco stood at the edge of the sidewalk and greeted every student that passed. They all seemed thrilled to see him, and some even took him in massive hugs.

"What about him?" Armin asked distantly.

"What's his last name?" Despite the unusual question, Samuel sounded as casual as ever. Armin imagined that he had his feet kicked up in his desk and his chair tilted back until there was real promise of the whole thing flipping over. 

"What?"

"Do you not know it?" Samuel probed, "Armin, you dated him. You're practically still dating him, and you don't know his full name. Give him the phone."

"No," Armin hissed. Marco looked over with concern, and though Armin gave him best shot at a reassuring smile and unconcerned wave, Marco still hesitated to turn back to the couple he had been talking to. Eventually, he did. "We're not dating."

Samuel sighed. "Yeah. Okay. Anyway. Last name; any ideas?"

"Bodt," Armin answered cautiously, "why?"

"Well I'll be damned," Armin heard Samuel slap his knee as his feet hit the ground. "You'll never guess who Nerd 2.0 is."

 

Marco was Samuel's new roommate, and Samuel seemed thrilled. 

"It looks like I was wrong, Armin," Samuel said from his seat on top of the desk. Marco and Armin unpacked Marco's light luggage within ten minutes.

"Oh yeah?" Armin asked as he hung one of Marco's shirts in his barren closet. "What were you wrong about this time?"

"I thought I couldn't get a better roommate. Wrong."

Laughing Armin turned with a handful of hangers. "You think you're so funny."

"I  _know_ I'm funny. But, this isn't humor, this is fact. Taller, better looking, and his shit doesn't take up three quarters of the room."

"Well, it's a good thing my roommate dropped out then, huh?" Armin tried to make a joke out of it, but he wasn't sure how he felt about rooming alone. He wasn't sure that he ever wanted to be left alone though it was becoming a trend. Samuel caught the way Armin's smile strained and the light in his eyes flickered. 

Samuel scoffed. "If you think we aren't infiltrating your room every night for man-sleepovers, you are sadly mistaken. Ain't no rest for the wicked."

The tension in Armin's shoulders lifted. "As long as we don't call them man-sleepovers."

"Man Slumber Parties."

Marco chuckled as he slammed a drawer closed, and Armin accepted defeat. "Deal."

 

Unpacking Armin's luggage took much longer than ten minutes. Marco took the closet and Armin took to packing clothes and trinkets in drawers. Samuel, predictably, abandoned them both to go and annoy his other friends, allowing them "alone time."

"So," Marco said, sliding an empty suitcase towards the bed, "you're serious about tonight?"

Armin shrugged, "I don't have anything to lose, do I?"

"No, no," Marco said, hands splayed frantically in front of him, "I mean I'm not trying anything. I know you and Eren and I wouldn't- I  _couldn't_ -"

"I didn't mean it that way," Armin smiled though it was weak, "I just mean I get a free meal and good company, and maybe an excuse to not think of Eren."

"I'll try my best to be a great distraction," Marco promised.

"You already are."

Long after Armin's clothes had been put away, the boys stretched across the floor and talked like they hadn't in years. Marco sat with his back pressed against Armin's bed, and Armin sat in front of his desk. With both of their legs outstretched they knocked their feet together as they spoke. 

"So, what's Jean up to?" Armin asked, eyes locked on the ceiling. 

Marco shrugged, reclining his head back as well. "I'm not sure, honestly. School, I guess. We haven't talked."

Armin frowned. "Should I ask why? You don't have to tell me, because I get it."

A small smile graced Marco's otherwise solemn face. "Turns out he isn't gay. Well," Marco amended, " he says he isn't. I was kind of like a test before college. Honestly, I think his dad caught wind that something more than friendship existed between us, and he panicked. It's alright though; I have more important things to concern myself with now, and I hope he's doing great wherever he is."

Armin didn't get a chance to say anything, but obviously his face said it all. 

"Don't you worry about me," Marco beamed, "I'm seriously okay. Like I said, there are other important thing I have to care about and work for."

"Like what?" Armin asked, locking ankles with Marco.

"Ah," Marco shrugged, eyes locked on their shoes, "grades. Making sure mom's okay back home. You. I've got a lot more to think about than that relationship gone bad. It happens, and I'm okay."

Armin locked his jaw when excitement erupted in his belly. "I'm gonna start getting ready for tonight," Armin said, refusing to looking away from his laced fingers. 

"Decided where you wanna go?" Marco questioned when he pushed himself onto his feet. 

"No," he admitted, raking his fingers through blonde hair, "I figure we'll just ride around town until something feels right."

Marco laughed, and accepted Armin's answer without question. "Well, I can't say that's a bad idea." He took two wide strides toward the door, told Armin he would see him again in an hour, and the door click closed.

Promptly, Armin deflated.

He had so many reasons to be happy. He had friends, he had a future, but one single failing relationship was ripping him apart from the inside. He knew he had reason to be happy, and most of the time it was easy to convince himself he was, but it was easier still to fall right back through the cracks into the sinking depression he'd been trapped in since they'd originally parted ways. 

Through the walls, he heard Marco talking to people in the hallways, all animated chatter and laughter while Armin remained locked in his room. Though every part of his being scolded him for it, he reread one of the three letters Eren had sent. The paper was worn and ripped around the edges from the countless times Armin had creased it, unfolded it, and creased it again.

The words never changed, but in Armin's mind the sincerity did.

Armin had no idea where Eren was or what he was doing, and he wondered why he even cared. It was a sadness he clung to because it made Eren real to him. 

From when he was 11 until he was 19, Eren was all Armin had known. He'd grown around him and who he was depended on who Eren was. Even if Eren went missing for years and years, Armin doubted he would love Eren any less. They were binary stars, and they orbited around one another for better or for worse until they both burned out. Except, Eren had burned through all his light, and Armin was holding out for innumerable tomorrows and distant yesterdays.

He was a ghost and a memory, but Armin couldn't let it go because he'd once been happy, and surely he'd be happy again if he just waited. And waited. And waited. 

 

If Marco noticed that Armin had been crying, he didn't say a word as he stood in Armin's doorway, hair slicked back and wearing an outfit Armin had never seen before but wished he had. 

"Well?" Marco smiled and held out an elbow for Armin to link onto, "Ready?"

Threading his arm through Marco's, Armin nodded. "As I'll ever be."

They drove until the sky was deep purple and stars pierced the veil of hazy clouds that hung just above the city line, and Marco filled the silence the entire ride. He seemed giddy and excited, and Armin was grateful that his every mood was infectious. Before long he found himself genuinely laughing along with Marco on the tail ends of every story he told. 

"Remember how I told you that my dad liked to go to the marina whenever he was off duty?" Marco asked.

Armin nodded as he took a half right onto a street they'd driven down four times that night. 

"Well," Marco said, "one time he took me with him. It was literally only one time, but it was the best day of my life, I think. We never got to be really close because, y'know, he was never home and all I had were mom's stories, but Armin, that day made me love that man more than I ever thought I could."

Armin briefly chanced stealing a glance at Marco and the sad smile he wore. 

"I remember he set up this massive inflatable trampoline in the middle of the lake, and for hours he sat me on the trampoline so he could jump from the boat and onto the trampoline to see how far he could fling me. We had cannon ball contests to see who would make the biggest splash, and we blared Guns-N-Roses as background noise for our air guitar solos." Marco paused. He stared out the windshield, but Armin doubted he even knew where he was, "I didn't know him long, but from the time we were together I know without a doubt that he was the best man to have ever graced this earth, and if the good die young then it makes sense why he's gone."

"He sounds great," Armin found himself teary eyed. "He'd be proud of you."

"I hope so," Marco said as he pulled his gaze from the windshield and studied Armin's face for long, quiet seconds. 

 

They circled the block two more times before Armin decided that he wanted to go to a low class diner that had a street to itself. Marco didn't argue, and his wallet probably rejoiced. 

Dinner was quiet compared to the car ride, but Armin preferred it that way. He was glad to have the company nonetheless. 

"Hey, Marco," Armin said whilst picking a napkin to shreds.

Dark eyes lifted steadily. "Yeah?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

Marco leaned back, and the faux leather booth squeaked under his shifting weight. He seemed to give it serious thought with his lips pressed in a tight line and his eyes boring holes through their table. "I don't know," he said finally. "I've loved people, but I don't think I've ever been  _in_ love with them. Why?"

Pushing his plate away, Armin shrugged. "I was just hoping to get some kind of confirmation that the feeling fades away eventually. I don't want to feel this way forever."

"In love?"

"No," Armin retorted, "hurt."

 

The hurt didn't go away, but time did. The semester rolled on in a sort of pattern. Classes were in the morning until two in the afternoon, and Marco met Armin for lunch right after class let out. From there, they would trek to the post office and walk away empty handed to the school library where Samuel and Thomas waited.

Thomas would complain about his minor class load and how college wasn't worth his time. Unfailingly, Samuel would mutter comments about Marco and Armin's relationship. Armin would suffocate the accusations before Thomas heard, and Marco was always strangely quiet. 

After homework was finished in the library, all four boys would camp out in Armin's dorm until they trickled away into their own, or they would stay the night. Thomas and Samuel fought over the empty bed every time, while Marco picked his favorite spot on the floor to camp out for the time. 

"Marco can sleep in Armin's bed," Samuel once commented with a sly grin.

From the depths of the darkness, Thomas's voice rose. "Please. Marco can sleep in my bed any night."

Marco laughed and promised he was fine, but before the night had ended, Marco found his way into Armin's bed.

Sleeping together became a norm after that. 

Despite being surrounded by people who loved him, Armin was always cripplingly lonely. There was nothing more unfortunate than being in love with a memory. 

 

His friends did the best they could to assure that Armin had a constant companion, but there were days when that just couldn't happen. Sometimes Marco would have a club meeting, Samuel would be caught with a study group and Thomas would be off campus, leaving Armin alone with his thoughts. Those were the days he wrote the most. 

 

_Eren,_

_I don't even know if you're getting these anymore. If you are, you're doing a great job hiding it. You remember that you have to use stamps, right? Everyone is saying that I need to give up. I understand where they're coming from, I mean it has been five months since you're last letter. But, that hasn't changed how much I care about you. Weird, isn't it? You're important. You're important to me and to the order of the universe, and I can't let letters get in the way. We'll see each other over the summer anyway! Just one more month and we'll have months to catch up and act like we're in high school all over again. I miss and love you. I hope you're doing okay. I hope you've made friends, and you're happy._

_I'm trying to be for the both of us._

_Please write back, Eren. I miss you so much. Please. I need to know that you're okay._

_It's our 11 month anniversary,_

_Yours Truly_

_(P.S. Marco says hi.)_

 

On June 13th, Marco walked with Armin to the post office just like they had every other weekday before that.

"Why do you do this?" Armin asked, studying the clouds as they skimmed the clear sky. 

"What do you mean?" Marco never looked away from Armin.

Armin took in a deep breath. "Why do you indulge me with walking to the post office? You know there won't be a letter, but you walk anyway. You stay hopeful anyway. Why?"

"He makes you happy," Marco answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Hearing from him makes you happy, and I want to see you happy just as badly as you want to hear from him."

"You must want it pretty badly then," Armin commented, stealing a side long glance. 

He saw Marco nod. "I do. And I don't want you to believe that you're alone. I'll walk with you through sleet, snow, or in the middle of a hurricane if you ask me to."

"Thanks, Marco," Armin felt his voice break, and his eyes pricked with tears. 

"Don't mention it."

The clicking of their heels occupied them for the rest of the walk, and neither of them disrupted the amicable silence. Marco held the door open for Armin and stayed behind his heels as he greeted the receptionist like an old friend. 

"Hi, Betty," Armin said. Though he wore a smile his tone was weary.

"Armin!" she gasped, rising from her seat and rushing into the back. Armin looked to Marco with confusion and Marco shrugged in return. When the elderly lady returned, she held between her hands a wrinkled and stained envelope. "Look what finally came, sweetheart."

Armin felt his eyes widen and his heart drop. He wanted to say a million thanks yous, but instead the words died on his tongue. Nothing could possibly express every emotion he was feeling. Finally, he knew what it was to be truly speechless. 

When he managed a breathless thank you, he leaned across the counter to give the clerk a strong hug. She didn't hesitate to return his embrace. 

"You're welcome, sweetheart. You be sure to come back and tell this old woman all about it."

"You know we'll be back," Armin laughed, hugging the letter to his chest. 

She waved as Marco opened the door and ushered Armin out. "I look forward to it, boys." 

 

Armin sprinted home, and Marco flanked him. Both boys laughed as they flew through crosswalks and hurdled curbs on their way back to campus.

"I knew I shouldn't give up!" Armin yelled. He gave a wide smile that showcased every tooth, and Marco laughed in return. 

"I know! I can't wait to see what it says."

"Well then run faster!" Armin giggled, ducked his head, and adopted wider strides. Marco easily pushed ahead, snatched the letter from Armin's grasp, and waved it through the air as he ran.

"Better take your own advice!" Marco winked at Armin's dramatically fake dismay. 

His chest heaved. "You're a terrible person," he laughed.

"The worst," Marco agreed and ran on. 

 

Armin couldn't breathe when he slammed the door closed, but Marco wasn't in much better condition. They were all smiles and breathless laughter regardless. 

"Here," Marco huffed, as he handed the letter back over to its rightful owner. His face was flushed and the ends of his hair were wet with the sweat from his brow. 

Armin's hands trembled when he took the envelope from Marco. It looked ratty like it had been folded and mangled between nervous hands. Armin ran a thumb long the paper. The address scrawled across the front was undeniably Eren's handwriting, but it was smudged as if it had been wet. 

"Well," Armin slipped a thumb under the envelope and tore it open. "Here we go."

Armin felt Marco watch him closely, his wide eyes never strayed. Nervous energy buzzed through him with electricity. All his waiting had amounted to this. 

When he began reading, though, his world crashed around him within the first two lines. Tears blurred his vision and suddenly his fingers no longer shook with nervous energy but with the threat of falling apart. He gripped the page tighter, fingertips threatening tear it. 

"Armin," Marco whispered while his comforting hands held onto Armin's. He stooped to look him in the eye.

"Read it to me," Armin's voice was frail and quivered where it remained suspended in the air. "Please. I can't."

Marco swallowed the growing lump in his throat, taking the page from Armin's relentless grip. 

 

 _Armin,_ he read.

_I'm going to be deployed overseas next month, so I won't be able to visit over the summer. Honestly, I don't know when I'll be home or if I'll make it home. I don't want you to wait for me anymore. I'm writing this on our one year anniversary, and I know that you will never speak to me again._

_I don't want you to be tied down with me anymore. I want you to date people there. I want you to be happy where you are. Don't try to be happy because we both know that I'm no good for you. We both know that I've dragged you along for long enough._

_Armin, since the first day I met you I've adored you. You've been a part of me for so long, but now I'm bad for you. I may not be very smart, but I do know when I'm being destructive. That's what I do best. I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I'm not going to write you anymore._

_I want you to have a good life, and that can't happen if I'm still in the picture._

_I will never stop being amazed by you. I will never stop telling every single person I meet that I was given the chance to meet an angel. Please don't hate me. I love you more than I can ever say. I'm just no good with words._

_I want to ask you for a favor. You don't have to but it can't hurt to ask: please don't forget about me, but don't dwell on what we had. You deserve more than me, Armin._

_Also there's one more thing. It's about Marco. Tell him to take care of you like I can't._

_I'm sorry,_

_Army Private Eren Jaeger_

_(P.S. Hi, Marco.)_

 

A silence settled over them that stretched long past being uncomfortable. Marco stared at the page and reread it to himself. Blindly, Armin stared straight ahead at the picture of Eren and himself. He stumbled back against his bed and knotted his fingers in the sheets.

He'd expected it. A small, nagging part of him knew all along that this would be the inevitable end, but he lived to be in happy denial. 

"I want to be alone," Armin's voice was small, but Marco heard him clearly. "Please."

Gingerly, Marco laid the letter next to Armin. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Okay," Armin deadpanned. From the corner of his eye, Armin saw Marco stand and leave and he was truly alone.

Armin didn't cry. He felt a cold emptiness spread from his core and into every crevice of every fiber of his being. He was numb. The matter that created him was heavy. Breathing took thought, blinking became a chore. Existing was a job that he no longer wanted.

He didn't move. The sun sank low beyond his curtained window. Lower and lower until there was no light where he sat. Though he wasn't sure what time it was, he knew it was late when he finally heard Marco stand from his spot in front of the door and retreat into his own dorm.

He laid down, but he didn't sleep. He stared at the ceiling though he saw nothing but inky darkness, suffocating and blinding. There was nothing to be heard inside, and there was grave silence outside as well. Every living thing mourned his loss.

 

Armin continued writing, but he never once stepped foot in the post office. He wrote Eren angry letters, and sad letters. He questioned his reasoning and why he left him alone for so long. Armin had so many questions that he would never be allowed an answer for because Eren was gone. He was stationed in some unknown nation across the globe. He was separate by seas and land and Armin missed him like hell.

Marco returned home for the summer, but Armin stayed on campus. He rarely left his dorm unless he needed food or had to use the restroom. Four barren walls became his best friends. They'd been stripped of all the pictures Armin had hung. They were blank slates that Armin dedicated most of his time to watching. Samuel still stayed across the hall. Occasionally, he would knock but Armin never answered.

Samuel wasn't as dedicated as Eren had been. The knocking stopped within a couple weeks.

Days bled into nights and nights left Armin feeling cold. He read the letters that Eren had sent him repeatedly by the light of his phone until he was emotionally drained enough to lay down. He lived to kill days so he could wallow in the nights.

Thomas did his make up for his sophomore ID picture, but they didn't talk much after that. Armin offered him his Freshman ID as a keepsake, and Thomas accepted it with a wry smile. 

"You looked fine as hell," he said.

Armin nodded, and walked to class. They hadn't spoken since.

Samuel called sometimes to see how Armin was doing, but the calls ended quickly. Marco visited but visitations were quiet, and the air was too thick to breathe.

Slowly, friendships were severed, but Marco remained through it all. 

As fall ended and winter began, Marco never went a night without bringing Armin a warm supper and forcing him to take a shower. On particularly bad nights, Marco would stay or hours on end. To silence the noise in Armin's mind, Marco would read from his text books. He sat propped against the closet, knees brought up to his chest, and read until Armin finally fell asleep. 

With enough coaxing, Marco got Armin to walk around campus and then around town. Classrooms and white walls were all he'd known for a succession of five months, but Marco refused to accept that Armin was living a healthy lifestyle. 

By their junior year, Marco had talked Armin into moving in together. With the promise of having as much space as he liked and his own private bathroom, Armin couldn't find a good reason to turn down the offer.

Armin stuck to his morning class routine while Marco opted to take nights so he could work a part time job. The excess money he made was mailed to his mother religiously. When half of the school year had fallen away, the emptiness had subsided. He wasn't happy. He wasn't sure he ever would be happy. But, he was content. 

Eventually, whenever they had time together, Armin was the one to ask about going out. No matter how tired Marco was, he agreed with a smile.

They went to movies often, and other times they went to local ice cream shops and shared milkshakes like a lovesick couple from a 50's movie. The more their relationship progressed, the easier it was to fall into their past high school romance. 

They held hands whenever they were together. They kissed under street lamps and shared the same bedroom in their, suddenly too large, apartment. Marco seemed exceptionally happy, and that was enough to please Armin. 

Still, in the dark parts of his mind, he craved Eren. He missed the rough kisses and quirky sense of humor. He missed the bad jokes and faux bravado. He missed the only person he'd ever passionately loved, and because of that he still wrote. 

When Marco wasn't home, Armin found himself vomiting his every thought on the page. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but he no longer addressed his journal entries to his parents. Now, they were all addressed to Eren. He was a part of every thought he had and every move he made. 

He was coming to the conclusion that maybe it was impossible to fall out of love. He'd stopped fighting it. 

Senior year of college was a solemn one. Armin found it in himself to apologize to Thomas and Samuel, and their friend group was reunited for a final year of antics and cramming in the school library. Thomas often sulked that Marco had chosen Armin over himself. 

"It's a shame that Marco has standards," Samuel said, patting Thomas on the back.

"Fuck you. I'm the highest standard," Thomas retorted, face pinched. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Samuel rolled his eyes. Promptly, Thomas shoved him from his chair and into the floor. 

"I deserved that," Samuel conceded, accepting his punishment and sprawling across the grimy floor. 

The year was half over when it finally settled in: Armin was really going to miss these people. He wondered where they would go in their lives and what kind of people they would touch along the way. Those people were lucky. Armin certainly had been. 

The week before graduation, Marco found the letters.

Armin had thought he'd hidden them well, and he had. But every secret had its end, and this was the end of that one. 

"Armin," Marco said. 

Armin turned slightly from his computer screen, and Marco dropped the box. There was a loud thud, and pages flew into the air before fluttering to the earth like dying moths. Armin turned fully to face him, feeling small and vulnerable. 

Marco didn't seem angry, or exceptionally upset. His lips were pursed and his hands were in the pockets of his jeans. He scarcely made eye contact. 

"You asked me once," he said, "if I'd ever been in love, and if that feeling ever goes away. I want to amend my answer. I'm in love, and I've seen the person I love cling to the source of his sadness while I couldn't do a single thing about it. I think that being in love and hurting go hand in hand. And no, neither of them go away."

"Marco, I-"

"You still love him," his tone was sharp, "you still love him like I love you and we've got a mess. Because I want the best for you, but I can't replace him. I'm not Eren. I never have been, and I can never be what he was to you. I don't really know why I thought that anything had changed. I guess I'm a professional in the art of blind optimism."

Armin remained silent, sinking further into his office chair. His eyes were locked on the box that overflowed with letters. Every single one was addressed to Eren. Armin imagined that every one had cut Marco differently and deeper than the one before.

"I'm sorry," Armin whispered. Shame washed over him. A cold baptism. 

"So am I," Marco said, seating himself on the edge of their bed. "After this week, we'll likely never see each other again. But, Armin, I am so glad I met you."

Tears raced down his cheeks and mirrored Armin's own. "Thank you, Marco. For everything you've ever done for me. For all that you've put up with. I owe you everything."

"You don't owe me anything," Marco stared at the floor, and his voice was low. "That's what friends are for."

 

Marco was right. After graduation, Armin never saw his bright face again. Life was so much brighter with him around. When he was gone life was muted, grey, and lacking laughter. Armin envied the person who would eventually steal his heart and love, but he knew it was for the best. He'd been the demise of the relationship anyway. Samuel was gone as well. He wanted to backpack through Europe. Thomas moved to California to explore special effects make up.

The summer after graduation, Armin received a phone call from his grandfather. He'd fallen gravely ill. Without a single hesitation, Armin packed up his bags and moved back to the house he'd grown up in. All four years of heartache and self discovery had led him right back to were he began: Shiganshina Avenue. He couldn't escape it, even when he tried. 

Living in Trost wasn't bad physically, but it took a mental toll. Eren still lived in every stone and slab of wood that made the town. He heard his laughter deep in the forest and could still see him skidding his bike down the gravel hill until he inevitably fell. Armin always rushed after him with band-aids and lectures about safety. He felt homesick because his home wasn't on a dead end avenue, rather it was across oceans and mountains, smiling in the face of death. 

Armin really did try to make the best of his crumbling situation, though. As it turned out Principal Smith still worked at the high school and had offered Armin a job to fill Miss Hanji Zoe's position. She'd become a researcher for a mega-company across the globe, and Armin became the obvious choice when he applied. He enjoyed his job on most days. The kids were friendly and his coworkers enjoyed reminiscing about times when Armin had roamed the halls as a student. They always narrowly avoided Eren's name, though, as if it brought on the plague.

When he wasn't at school, Armin was at his grandfather's bedside. He'D adopted a few of Marco's tactics for comforting. He read his grandfather to sleep at night and made pallets in the floor so that he was never far out of reach. Armin would have liked to think he helped some, because though his grandfather's skin had become paper thin and sunken, he still beamed whenever Armin would walk through the door.  

"What are we reading today, son?" He would ask.

Armin would drop to his knees and rest his chin against the mattress. "Whatever you feel like."

Armin couldn't remember how many times he'd read Don Quixote in a two year span, but he did remember the way his grandfather laughed just as hard every single time. 

Time was unforgiving, and on a cold November night, Armin lost his best friend. Rather than celebrating his 24th birthday, he stood by a gaping hole in the earth while rain soaked him to the core. Armin stopped keeping track of time after that, and he lived day by day. Soon he was 25 and rarely left the school until Principal Smith ushered him out and told him to have a great night. When he turned 26, he found that nothing had really changed from when he was a teenager. When he was home he still found himself gazing out the window at the house across the street. The lights rarely came on, and the van in the driveway scarcely left the lot.

The home was dead.

 

Armin sold his grandfather's property after having it on the market for a month; he couldn't take the loneliness or the anchor across the street. The home went to a nice family that reminded him of his own, so he was at peace with the decision. Once they'd shaken hands and signed the paperwork for handing over the deed, Armin never once went back to visit the home. It was scarred with too many memories, plagued by the past and what could have been. He was far better off in the block of apartments above the coffee shop he and Eren had frequented when they were young. New shops had moved in on the ground floor and people flooded in and out of the building continuously from the break of dawn and into the dead of night.

He needed liveliness and throngs of people to remind himself that he was still alive. It provided as a reminder that life doesn't allow complacency. 

After long trial-filled years, Armin found his road to recovery, and he found himself along the way. He loved his job. He loved the kids and the people he worked with. He loved where he lived. He loved visiting the headstones of his family members to read them Don Quixote and tell them about his day. He still wrote letters, but they were no longer addressed to anyone but himself. He didn't require other people to fall on to make the hurt go away.

Sometimes, though, he still felt the traces of bitterness. When he heard a name that resembled Eren's, he would get a bad taste in his mouth and his stomach would flip with unease. But the face wasn't that of the boy who had broken his heart, and he would be okay again. There were days when he would smell Eren's cologne and he would remember the letters that were now shoved into the far corner of his only guest bedroom. He hadn't opened that box in years, and didn't intend to change a thing. That was Pandora's Box in his own mind. It was better left closed, so he kept it that way and secretly hoped they were rotting away in the darkness.

He'd finally learned his lesson after eight long years: Change is inevitable, but it isn't bad.

Sometimes things change for the worst, sometimes for the better, and sometimes it knocks you right onto your ass. Armin had accepted the last option as the only option for far too long. He was back on his feet, though. He was standing in his corner and he was now prepared for the fight of a lifetime. He was stronger now because of it, and he almost sure that if given the opportunity, he wouldn't change a single thing.

Once he'd found his roots in Trost, he learned that he wasn't the only one who had stayed in town. On a particularly sunny Friday, Connie had rushed him in the middle of the grocery store, and on that day he'd received the biggest hug of his life.

"Dude," Connie gasped, pulling away with his arms spread as if he was showcasing Armin. "You're here! You're here in this shithole of a city!"

"I'm here," Armin confirmed. "It's not so bad, though. It's grown a lot."

Connie shrugged distracted as he examined Armin from the ground up. Without warning, he launched his fingers into Armin's hair. "It's long!" He screeched, "And you're taller! And you don't look eight anymore!"

Armin laughed and slouched to lessen the difference in their height. "You look exactly the same."

"Shut the fuck up. That's just because I've always looked like a bonafide man." He crossed his arms over his chest. Aside from a little gained muscle mass, he really did look like he was 18 again. "Hey!" His hazel eyes glowed, "why don't you come over sometime? We can kill some virtual aliens and talk about life and shit."

Armin didn't think about it. "How does Saturday look for you?"

"Clear as the the God-given sky," Connie smirked, "bring chips and your charming personality."

"I'll see you then," Armin confirmed, but Connie was already waltzing out of the store. Though he couldn't see clearly, he was almost sure that the woman who stood waiting for him was Sasha Braus. 

 

The woman was, in fact, Sasha, and the three of them  took to one another like glue. It was nice to have friends again, especially ones that he'd known and trusted through his childhood. Saturdays at the Springer household became tradition. Generally, they would come together multiple times a week simply because Armin didn't want to be alone and they were always searching for a reason to have company. 

Armin became great at video games and socializing by some divine miracle.

All at once, his life had fallen into place. He'd crashed, burned, rebuilt, and now he'd finally found a place to be happy.

Of course, life doesn't allow for complacency. 

 

Wednesday, February 19th had been ordinary. He woken early, read, showered, and went to work. Armin flew through three chemistry labs and four lectures before the final bell rang and Connie waited for him outside of the school house.

Connie didn't wait for Armin to come to a complete stop before he announced his news. "I was walking home, and I noticed something."

"Was it a bad something?"

"Nah," Connie shrugged, "well. I guess it depends. How do you feel about neighbors?"

"What?"

"Someone's moving into the apartment next to yours! Big U-HAUL truck, lots of furniture. No movers, though. Must be that pretentious type of guy who thinks he can handle all the heavy lifting on his own." Connie smirked. "Just your type."

"Why are you telling me this?" Armin sighed, tucking his hair behind his ears. 

"Because," Connie explained, "I'm expecting a full report in the morning about how well this meeting goes and when your first date will be. Don't let me down, Arlert," he clamped a hand around his shoulder, "make daddy proud."

"Bye, Connie," Armin said, immediately backpedaling. 

Connie gave a boisterous laugh that turned quite a few heads. "Seriously, tell me about him."

"Yeah," Armin waved him away, but he heard Connie chuckle the entire walk off campus.

 

Armin took his time walking home. He wasn't sure why, but he was nervous. He hadn't met very many new people his own age recently, and he wasn't quite sure how to go about making himself seem likable to a complete stranger.

He went over every possible scenario in his head to prepare himself for the eventual meet up. He knew how he would handle the new neighbor if he was the angry type or the peppy type. He'd nailed down how he would handle gaining a new neighbor he was creepy, sloppy, or a convicted felon. Potentially, he could handle all three combined with relative ease.

He was excited by the time the apartment complex was in his line of sight. He was ready for anything and everyone. He was prepared. He was ready.

He'd gone over every possible scenario, and he was confident in how he would make new friends and branch out on his own. When Armin saw the U-HAUL Connie had described, his heartbeat stopped and his blood pressure rose at the same time.

He'd gone over every scenario, except for the one in which his new neighbor was Eren.

Armin was completely unprepared. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren Jaeger has moved into the apartment next to Armin's, and the tables have turned. The bitterness that Armin had built up and the resentment he felt towards Eren all seem to melt away as Eren's charm builds. It doesn't take long for Armin to fall completely head over heels for a second time, but there's still a lingering doubt and unknown fear. Why did Eren leave in the first place? Who took Armin's place? The longer his questions go unanswered, the more Armin begins to doubt himself and his importance to Eren in the grand scheme.  
> Building self doubt shoots them down before they even have the chance to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter 6 times.  
> Please enjoy it because I didn't

When Armin stepped onto the empty road, he felt hollow. His eyes were trained downward, intensely focused on the way his fingers knotted themselves into the frayed ends of his scarf. The metallic clanging of boxes being tossed around the interior of the moving van echoed down the street, and it only grew louder as Armin came closer to the curb. It was nearly impossible not to stop and steal a glance.

He couldn't afford that though. Even with eight years and oceans of emotional distance between them, Armin knew he couldn't look at Eren Jaeger and feel any sense of joy. Bitterness had replaced the bubbling happiness Eren's name had once provided. Deep rooted anger had killed the butterflies in his stomach. Loneliness had made a home in the catacombs of his mind, and he was never completely happy because of it. Still, even with the new vices that plagued him, Armin couldn't rid of the lingering, hopeless love for Eren that refused to die. It was a smoldering coal in the depths of his soul that burned and sparked and demanded attention when he was at his weakest points.

In that moment, Armin was incredibly weak. 

"Watch out!"

Armin heard the warning, but didn't fully comprehend the words before a rogue box hit him dead on and sent him tumbling ass first onto chilled asphalt. For such a small box, it was incredibly heavy. Dazed, Armin held it against his chest as he hauled himself onto his feet. 

"Shit!" A sickeningly familiar voice shouted over racing footsteps. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

Armin hesitated in raising his gaze, and once did, he felt his heart begin to palpitate. There he was: Armin's source of both happiness and crippling depression. He wanted to scream. Crying was also appealing. The thought crossed his mind to grab Eren by the collar and shake him until the sun set or his arms gave out.

Instead, Armin clung to his dignity with every last shred of strength he could muster. "You always were careless," Armin said, but couldn't quite bring himself to smile. "I should be used to it."

Eren froze when the realization hit, and Armin almost felt satisfied. With wide eyes and a moving mouth that couldn't find the right words to say, Eren stood dumbfounded and outlined in blazing sunlight. 

"Here," Armin said to kill Eren's lingering silence. At an arm's length, Armin offered the box to its rightful owner.

Eren seemed to snap back to reality when his eyes flicked to the offering and back up to Armin's face. "I'm-" He cleared his throat. "Thank you. Armin."

The way his name rolled off Eren's tongue was almost reverent. 

"Yeah," Armin nodded and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his petticoat. He was sweltering.

With a tight lipped smile, Armin denied Eren the chance to speak. He turned on his heels, skipped onto the curb, and disappeared inside the apartment complex without a twinge of guilt or yearning to look back. It wasn't until he'd reached the top most step when he felt warm tears washing his cheeks. Shaky fingertips smeared them away, and wobbly knees carried him the final few yards to his locked front door.

His strength was spent.

His house keys jingled as unskilled fingers carded through them. They weren't quite loud enough to mask the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs, though. He sniffled in a poor attempt to collect himself as he jammed his key into the lock. 

"Armin," Eren said from the landing. He sounded as though he were approaching a rabid dog, prepared to lunge. Armin whipped his head around with a scowl carved deep into his skin. The hands Eren held out stretched fell limp by his sides.

"What?" He meant to sound bitter, but his voice captured more breathless exhaustion than anything else. 

"I-" Eren raked a nervous hand through tangled locks of hair, "Please don't cry. I'm going to make it up to you. I swear to God I will, Armin. You have my word."

Armin's scowl became a weighted frown, and he distracted himself by running a shaking thumb over the polished doorknob. "I'm not interested."

He was halfway inside when Eren spoke again. "Armin."

Armin froze with his back turned. He didn't speak because he could find no reason to. 

"I'm sorry," Eren said.

The door slammed closed hard enough to rattle the hinges and reverberate through the walls. Long, cold minutes passed before Eren could be heard retreating back down the staircase. Armin moved numbly through his apartment once he was sure he was completely alone. 

 

Armin didn't eat that night. He sat at the dining room table and stared at his cell phone. Connie had called, but he had no interest in returning it. Twice, he'd pulled up Mikasa's contact and came close to letting the call go through, but he couldn't keep himself from backing out. Hours passed. The local news channels had filtered through all of the latest breaking news and weather updates, and now the TV only served as background noise. 

Finally, once he was tired past the point of reasonable thought, Armin made the call.

Once the line had rang three times, he reached out to end it, but her voice stopped him dead. 

"Hello?" She sounded the same. Armin was immediately brought back to his graduation day and the last full conversation they'd had face to face. "Armin?"

"You knew he was moving back, didn't you?"

She was quiet. "You sound sick."

"I feel sick."

"He missed you," she said, "he would've moved to the ends of the earth if he knew that's where you would be."

"So you did know."

"I helped pick the apartment," she confirmed without a hint of regret. "It'll be good for both of you."

Armin stared blindly at the kitchen wallpaper. It'd begun to peal at the corners. "I'm not sure that's quite right."

"Armin," she said and he froze. She always made him feel small by comparison. Even her voice threw him back to a time when he was 14 and defenseless. "Have I ever told you wrong?"

"No," he didn't need to think on it.

"So trust me."

The call disconnected. 

 

When Armin retired for the night, he was lulled to sleep by the sounds of Eren unpacking. He heard things thud and slide along wooden flooring until the early hours of two and three o'clock in the morning. Eren's cursing, sighing, and occasional singing were also mixed in as he worked into the night. 

Whether it be because of fatigue or his imagination, Armin almost swore he recognized the song Eren hummed.

It was slow and sweet, and brought Armin back to their high school gymnasium when they'd spun slow circles until the dance floor had cleared and teachers tore down decorations. 

Prom. They'd danced to that song at prom. 

A ghost of a smile danced on Armin's lips when consciousness finally left him. 

 

"Delivery," Eren called through Armin's door at the early hour of seven in the morning. Armin couldn't recall Eren ever being up before nine, even on school days. His knuckles wrapped against the wooden frame. 

Cautiously, Armin cracked the door. "I told you I'm not interested."

In his right hand, Eren toted a carry out tray with two coffees. His left was still curled into a loose fist, prepared to knock again. Slowly, he tucked it, too, under the tray. "That's fine," he said, offering the tray for Armin to take his pick. "One's vanilla, the other's decaf no cream."

Armin didn't move from behind the door.

Eren wasn't deterred. "You walk to work, right? I bet some of the homeless around town would appreciate it. Oh, or the people you work with. Take them with you, and hand them out. You don't have to drink them with me."

When he didn't back down, Armin finally relented. Stepping into the hallway, Armin turned to lock his front door and held his hands out to receive the coffees. Eren towered a full head above him, and Armin took a small step back to be able to meet his gaze. 

"Thank you," he said, "I'll be sure to relay who they're from."

"I wouldn't do that," Eren laughed while rocking back onto his heels, "no one will touch either of them if you do that. Teachers didn't like me too much."

Armin nodded, lips pressed in a firm line. "Okay. See you around."

As Armin took the stairs two at a time, he cringed at the exchange. Talking to Eren had once been the most natural thing in the world, but now just being in his presence made his skin buzz with both excitement and the need to flee. His stomach would flip with nervous energy and nausea at the thought of Eren being home.

For so long he'd waited for Eren to come back, but for what? Eren was his past, and the future had made no room for him, or at least there was no room that Armin was willing to see. Mikasa, apparently, saw things differently. 

"Armin!" Connie shouted as he dashed up the sidewalk, shoving multiple morning commuters out of his way as he did so. "So? How'd it go? Who's mystery hunk? When's the wedding?"

Snapping upright, Armin nearly spilled the coffee and dropped his dignity. 

"Well?" He laughed, clapping Armin's shoulder.  "You didn't call me. I though maybe you'd already gotten lucky. Look! You're blushing! I'm right, aren't I?"

"Not even close," Armin said. Connie picked up on his tone and his excitement dropped a few degrees. 

"Okay," Connie shrugged, "well, did you at least get to talk to him?"

"Unfortunately."

"What's he like?" Probing for information was Connie's forte. Most times, Armin was convinced he missed his calling as an interrogator. "What's his name? You did at least get a name didn't you?"

Soberly, Armin looked down to the drink tray. On each of the cups, in rigid handwriting, Eren's name was scrawled perfectly. Hazel eyes became wide with the flooding realization. 

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've come up with two options," Armin said as they began to walk, "I'm going to either a) avoid him, or b) move to the Arctic Circle."

Connie snorted. "Send me a post card, because we both know there's no way in hell you can avoid him."

They walked a short ways before Connie piped in again. "You know, there is a third option."

"I can't see one," Armin retorted.

Rolling his eyes, Connie began to tread backwards, eyes boring into Armin's own. "You let yourself be happy with him like we both know you want to be."

"Again," Armin reiterated, "I can't see one."

"Oh come on!" Connie threw his arms up in exasperation. "Look at it this way: salt has pepper, bars have drunks, Starbucks has overpriced coffee, and you have Eren Jaeger. Some things just shouldn't be separated because they make each other better."

"Except they can be separated," Armin reminded him, "for eight years."

"Okay, point made.  _But,_ I'd like to point out that he has a side of this story too. You should let him tell it. If not for anything else, get closure from it because I can see the mopey side of you coming back out, and I don't like it, man."

"I don't like it either," Armin confessed. 

"Good, so we agree. Give him a chance to tell his side, yeah?"

Armin hesitated, but reluctantly agreed. "Fine. Fine, I don't have anything to lose anyway."

"Hell yeah," Connie cheered, "and with that," he leaned to take a drink from the tray Armin carried, "I take my leave. Keep me updated."

"I'll consider it."

Connie winked, raised his cup, and disappeared with the work flow. 

 

The world continued to turn despite having Eren as a neighbor. They seldom saw one another unless they were actively trying to. Sometimes Eren would offer a kind good morning when they passed one another in the hallway. Occasionally, Eren would drop by in the mornings with coffee and smiles to go around. There were a handful of nights when Eren would order pizzas for both apartments and have the delivery place scrawl bad pick-up lines inside the box.

With each kind action, Armin felt his resistance melting. 

Over the course of eight long and bitter years, Armin had turned Eren into a monster. He was the stuff of nightmares in his absence. He'd destroyed every ounce of happiness that Armin had made for himself in one fatal swoop, and Armin had held that grudge for so long that his perception of who Eren was had changed.

He was no monster; Armin just didn't know how to cope. The revelation wasn't surprising in the least.

Eren was still packed full of boyish wonder and charm. He was adventurous and kind at heart. Armin didn't realize how much he'd missed him until it all came crashing back in a blaze of glory that left Armin dazed, confused, and yearning for more. 

He was in high school all over again. 

 

"Delivery," Eren called one April morning when the clock's hands had just passed 7. "I hope the homeless appreciate my efforts to give back."

"I don't know about the homeless," Armin said, stepping into the hallway to lock his front door, "but Connie sure does."

"Oh fuck that," Eren's brow creased, "I'm putting salt in both of them next time."

Armin cracked a smile. "Well," he said, "since that has to wait until next time, and you've already ordered that one we might as well drink them together."

"What?"

Armin jabbed an elbow into Eren's side. "Oh come on. We have to kick this friendship into gear somehow don't we? I appreciate the pizza delivery messages, but this might be a little more progressive."

Though his complexion masked it well, Armin unmistakably saw Eren blush. "I guess you're right."

"Aren't I always?"

Eren agreed. 

 

The times they hung out started by being limited to once a week and were mostly limited to sitting inside the diner.

They annoyed employees by sitting in the same booth and talking for hours on end. Eren would pick his way through three different pastries while Armin nursed the same cup of coffee until it was cold. Eren talked a lot about the friends he'd made while being away.

He'd met a man named Franz who'd be come close friends with, but the man died in battle on their first mission. Eren had been left with damage control when his fiance learned about the accident. They still talked sometimes. She was doing okay.

Briefly, he mentioned his Commander and Captain, but those were always short conversations. Armin didn't press for any information Eren wasn't willing to give.

In return, Armin talked about his college experience. Eren became a massive fan of Thomas throughout the course of only a few stories, and his mood would simmer to quiet and attentive whenever Armin would mention Marco. Conveniently, he managed to avoid explicitly talking about their relationship.

Eren didn't ask, and Armin didn't tell.

With a little time, the men began running into each other far more frequently. At first it would be a mistake. Eren would be on his morning jog and wave when Armin passed by on his way to work. Armin would offer a quiet hello when he would pass a table of Eren's friends in the Diner. Small exchanges seemed to always boost Armin's mood, so he began intentionally timing things as to bump into Eren. Passing waves turned into small conversations that would sometimes make him late for work. Hours spent after work for lesson preparations often turned into phone calls with Eren as he stared blankly at notes. 

Eren would walk him to work before going on his jog, and then meet him outside once he got off. 

Being in each other's presence was comfortable, even when conversation wasn't there. Mundane activities were exciting when Eren was around. Most nights, Eren could be found in Armin's living room offering to grade papers or cook dinner. Armin would watch Eren play video games. Eren would hold yarn while Armin would knit. 

The longer time passed, the further they drifted away from the looming discussion. Armin felt it breathing down his neck whenever their conversation would find a lull or drift into oblivious. 

 _Why did you leave me,_ the voice in his head demanded to know.  _Why was I not good enough for you?_ It didn't take long for self doubt to settle in. 

Why did he leave. Why did he let Armin push him away. Why wasn't Armin enough. Why why why. 

Life seemed to be going well from the outside looking in, but a strom was building inside of Armin's brain. He was happy for the constant company, but feared that Eren stuck around out of pity. Eren had seem him at his weakest. He'd broken him once before and probably wouldn't do it again out of kindness. 

What if Armin had been making up the affectionate undertones in sly remarks because he wanted to feel like he had Eren back?

What if Eren would never love him again because he was too cling? Because he talked too much. Because he was himself and not the friends Eren cherished in the military. 

What if he'd never loved him at all?

It would make sense. Armin clung to the past and made a point to drag it around with him always. He was an anchor, a professional at dragging himself down and keeping everyone else from moving forward. Eren couldn't move forward with his life because Armin wouldn't allow it. Instead they were stuck in a perpetual loop of loving like reckless teenagers and abandoning it all just to start all over again.

Just as suddenly as their friendship had blossomed, Armin retreated.

Daily, Eren offered to pay for movies, food, and pastries, but he was denied every time. Armin always made sure he was busy. Eren deserved better. 

The offers inevitably died away and Armin felt sick at the thought of losing Eren all over again, but he'd dug his own grave and all that was left was to lie in it.

Eren deserved better. Eren deserved better. Armin deserved nothing at all.

He closed himself away to assure that everyone else was free. 

 

Time grinded along painfully without Eren around. Days turned to weeks. Weeks bled into less than memorable months.

Eren stayed in his apartment, and Armin stayed in his own. 

Even with silent months between them, Eren still attempted to communicate in ways that didn't need confrontation. The pizza guy delivered pick up lines on Armin's worst days. Two coffees waited for him outside his front door without fail, one of which was always clearly labeled with Connie's name. 

It was incredible; Armin seemed to miss Eren now more than he ever had in college, yet he lived right next door. 

Mental wedges created far more distance than oceans ever could. 

Their game of silence ended by accident on a gloomy Thursday afternoon.

Rainclouds hung heavy in the sky threatened to burst at any moment, and Armin ducked past passerby in a frantic attempt to make it home before the rain started. Head ducked, he swerved under and around elbows in a dash.

Eren had been on his way out; halfway through the door, he turned to offer his final goodbyes to a group still seated inside when Armin ran directly into him.  

Eren stumbled backwards and squeezed the up he held, and it rained on Armin in sticky, frozen droplets. Armin had rammed into him hard enough to send them both toppling over. Eren fell on his back and knocked the breath straight from his lungs, while Armin was able to use him to cushion his fall. Armin's knees pinned Eren down on both sides of his torso. 

Both men were an unnatural shade of red. 

Armin blamed the fruit juice he wore. 

Wide eyes fell on Eren's face, and Eren stared back with an equal amount of shock mirrored in his own features. Once Eren had completely taken in the situation, his head fell back against the tile flooring and he laughed. His soundless laughter was infectious, and Armin couldn't avoid giggling along with him. He looked so genuinely happy, and the sickening Armin drug around with him had vanished in that instant. 

"I- I'm sorry." Armin sputtered. 

"It's alright," Eren assured once he'd finally caught a breath. "You look like you got the worst of it."

Red liquid dripped down his hair, behind his ears, and down the collar of his work shirt. Suddenly, he felt disgusting. "Yeah," he agreed softly. 

When patrons of the diner began to hover and Armin realized his compromising position, he shuffled onto his feet without accepting any help. Eren took an offered hand and pulled himself upright.

"Are you okay?" Armin asked, searching Eren from head to toe for any injuries. "You fell pretty hard."

"When it comes to you, I tend to," Eren's voice was matter-of-fact. "Don't worry about it, Armin. I'm okay. Seriously."

Armin didn't listen, and opted to continue searching Eren for any open wounds. Mostly, he just wanted to avoid eye contact. His face felt flushed and his blood had spiked a few degrees. "Charming."

Eren cracked a genuine smile, lopsided and toothy. "I have my moments."

"They're rare."

"But effective."

The crowd that had surrounded them slowly thinned as customers returned to booths and frazzled employees hid behind the counter and searched for mops.

"Come on," Eren said, taking Armin's wrist. Midway on the route to their apartments, Eren stopped and dropped Armin's wrist as if it had scalded him. "I didn't mean to, you know, hold your hand like that. I just- Habit. I guess it's a habit."

Armin could only hear his own heart beat. "It's okay. You go ahead. I'll follow."

Eren unlocked his front door in silent concentration before ushering Armin inside. Though he hesitated, Armin eventually stepped over the threshold. For some reason, Armin had expected a replication of Eren's teenage bedroom on a grander scale. He'd imagined clothes in the floor, unmade beds, and piles of dishes threatening to slide out of the sink basin. The interior of the apartment wasn't even similar. 

Furnishings were sparse but homey and inviting. Everything had its designated place. Armin took a seat on the edge of a straight backed chair while Eren ventured deeper into the apartment. He reappeared with a towel slung across his shoulder which he tossed in Armin's direction.

Grateful, Armin twisted his hair inside of it.

The air had become unfit to breath while they sat silently. Armin studied the barren walls, and tried not to feel the presence of Eren's eyes on him. There were things they needed to talk about. Armin knew it. Eren knew it.

Instead, they sat stoic until Armin finally broke down and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the front door. "I'm- I think I'm just gonna go. I'm sorry about bumping into you."

"Don't worry about it," Eren said, moving towards the door. Armin followed on his heels. "I always was careless, remember?"

"Yeah," Armin replied dryly. "I have a hard time forgetting."

Eren's mouth twitched. The gears in his mind were visibly working, but he disregarded them. Stubborn, Armin remembered, he was always incredibly stubborn. "Me too. Have a good night, Armin." 

Armin watched Eren's face in search of any kind of sign that maybe now would be the time to clear the air. He came up short. "Night."

 

Immediately when Armin entered his apartment, he made a beeline for the bathroom. Dried juice was everywhere. His clothes stuck to his skin, and his hair was matted in thick, red clumps. No amount of dry cleaning could salvage his button down, and he knew that for a fact.

He dropped it in the trash and stepped into the warm spray of the shower.

He thought about life, and fate, and Eren. He thought about how no matter how hard to tried to hate Eren there was some overwhelming piece of him that couldn't let go of a memory. His Eren from years ago had gone away. That Eren had left him for dead when Armin had needed him the most.

He was angry. He was resentful. But, he was also tired of being filled with hatred. He was, more than anything else, exhausted. 

Eren came back, and he was unfailingly charming. He was witty, bright, and thoughtful. He was exactly the boy he was in high school with more muscle mass and less terrible jokes (not very many less, though.) It was stupid to ever believe that he could truly hate Eren Jaeger when he was just a much a part of him as Armin's very own soul. 

He loved Eren a concerning amount that couldn't possibly be returned. 

Eren was worth it. Armin, though, was not.

Destruction and despair were all he'd known for years stacked upon years, and he couldn't let all of it go. He'd found himself at ground zero, and sometimes he felt he'd never built up from there. He was stuck in a permanent rut. 

Eren gave him strength to change in his youth, and that much of Armin hadn't changed since he was 12 years old. He was grossly dependent.

He always had been, and by the way his future was shaping up, the outlook for change was dim.

Unattractively, grossly codependent. 

The water had begun to run cold, but Armin's blood boiled beneath his skin. He toweled off, dressed in the same pajamas he'd worn for weeks, and folded in on himself on the couch.

Time passed as Armin sat complacent. He hated himself.

He loved Eren Jaeger.

He was scared. He was hurting. He needed a friend.

At one in the morning, Armin called a groggy and hardly coherent Connie. 

"I need you to help me pack for the Arctic," Armin said once the call connected. 

"What?" Connie asked, voice gruff, "what happened?"

Armin told him everything. The building friendship, the inevitable crash, and the collision after months of solitude. 

"Fuck. I'll be over tomorrow. Have the suitcases ready," Connie instructed. 

"One step ahead of you," Armin ended the call. 

 

He was restless that night. Armin attempted to sleep in his bed but had little success. The couch was far less comfortable, but it provided more distractions. He stared blankly at walls, watched television on mute, and counted the number of times the ceiling fan spun in a minute. From the sounds coming from the apartment next door, Eren didn't seem to be sleeping too soundly himself. 

There was distinct pacing that could be heard above the sound of soft music. Furniture scraped against the floor, dishes clanked. Armin recognized the sounds of busy work. Armin figured he could follow Eren's prime example in coping with sleeplessness, but he couldn't find it in himself to do much of anything. His apartment had began collecting clutter, but he couldn't be bothered to care. 

He rarely moved from the couch anyway. Nothing else mattered. 

Everything had lost its luster. Slowly, he thought, he was slipping back into the days of his depression. Eren was a ghost in his thoughts. He was so close, but Armin kept him at a distance. He had the chance to be happy, but he wouldn't let himself take it, because it wasn't deserved. Eren would never be his, because he deserved someone stable and in control of their own moods. 

Inevitably, Armin would drag Eren down, and the cycle would repeat. Suffering alone wasn't ideal, but it was safe. 

 

In the end, Armin didn't sleep, he only dozed. By some cruel twist in fate's design, Armin was fully awake by 6:30 the following morning. He watched Eren taken off on his normal running route, and sat in the window long enough to admire the people who passed.

Half an hour had passed when Eren returned. Immediately, Armin abandoned the window.

There was a knock at the door which Armin ignored. 

"Delivery," Eren announced. Three more knocks punctuated his sentence before Armin heard Eren leave the cups by the door and close himself inside the neighboring apartment. 

Furniture scraped the floor, dishes clanked, and a vacuum roared to life all while Armin sat on the sofa. He stared at walls. He stared at the TV. He stared at nothing at all. Time passed and left him behind.

He went to work. He came home. He sat in silence.

 

The clock read 11 pm when the next knock on Armin's door appeared. Curiosity got the best of him. 

Armin cracked his front door open just enough to peak through.

"I didn't figure you were asleep," Eren said. "You never got enough sleep then, and you don't now either."

Armin shrugged. "I had more important things to do."

With his gaze cast aside, Eren poorly hid a grin that overwhelmed his face. "Wanna take a walk with me? It's not humid out yet."

"I'm gonna pass this time," Armin said.

Eren nodded, sliding his hands into the pockets of well worn jeans. "Alright. Just thought I'd ask. You know, when I'm upset walking sometimes-"

"I'm not upset," Armin cut him short, "I'm just- I don't know what I am. I'm not upset, though."

Armin caught the way Eren's eyes flicked past him to gaze into his cluttered living room. "You're sure about that?"

"Is that all you needed?"

Eyebrow raised, Eren stepped away from the door. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

"Alright, goodnight." Armin began to close to door before cracking it open once more. "Do you have a flashlight?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'm like Indiana Jones. Remember when I took that rabbit head on?"

"With the help of a flashlight," Armin deadpanned, "stay right here. I'll get you one."

Eren didn't argue. He locked his hands behind his back and allowed the door to be closed in his face. Moments passed and Armin returned, armed with the flashlight and spare batteries. "Be safe."

"I was in the Army," Eren laughed. 

Armin sighed, looking unimpressed. "Be safe."

"Right," Eren said, flicking the light on and pocketing the batteries, "I promise I'll be safe."

"Okay," Armin said, stepping fully behind the front door. "Goodnight."

The door clicked closed on the final syllable of Eren's goodnight wishes. Armin sank to the floor with his back pressed against the wood, head between his knees. 

 

Again, Armin spent a sleepless night alone. While laying on the sofa, he watched the ceiling fan turn in lazy circles. Eren returned home when the LED letters on Armin's TV read 3:04.

Pacing, scraping, cleaning, humming, silence. 

Armin relocated to his bedroom.

 

It was a Wednesday night when exhaustion finally won out and Armin slept through an entire night. Though well rested, he overslept severely. At twenty minutes till 8, Armin came hopping out of his front door as he struggled to tug on a pair of shoes. Inevitably, he ran into Eren. 

It was becoming an unhappy pattern. 

"Sorry, excuse me," Armin said shortly, shoving past and escaping to the outside traffic. Eren followed. "I really don't have time to talk," he warned.

"That's alright," Eren's smile was forced. The light in his eyes was dim. "I don't have anything to say anyway."

"That's a first."

Eren gave a humorless laugh paired with a loose shrug. "Yeah, I guess you have a point. Maybe I do have a few things to say."

"But?"

"Can't."

"Okay."

"Armin?"

Armin spared nothing more than a sidelong glance and increased the width of his steps. Eren kept the pace easily. 

"Would you maybe want to go on that walk tonight?"

"I have papers to grade," Armin said shortly. "So, no, not tonight."

"I could help," Eren offered. 

"That's okay," Armin tightened his tie, "I've got it."

Eren nodded and fell out of step. "Alright. Understood. Hope work goes okay," he smiled, gave a short wave, and disappeared into an oncoming throng of people.

Armin felt something in his chest break as he watched him go; a new wound to tend to. He wanted nothing more than to blame Eren, but he knew better. Most of the wounds he wore were of his own doing.

With his head ducked and a sickness swimming through his veins, Armin walked the rest of the way to work alone. 

 

Spring broke the winter cold and summer overpowered Spring in massive heatwaves, but Armin still couldn't manage to have a decent conversation with Eren. Seasons changed rapidly, yet Armin didn't feel himself becoming any better. He craved Eren's attention, but repelled it at the same time. He actively sought conversation, but refused to speak when given the chance.

He built himself up only to tear himself back down. 

Once school let out for the summer, Armin was left to lock himself inside his apartment and wait until fall. Without constant reminders, Armin forgot to do simple tasks. Had he showered that day? When was the last time he'd eaten anything? Was his hair brushed today or a couple days ago?

Time was beginning to not mean anything at all. Day smeared into night. Days passed with no significance.

Sometimes Connie called, but Armin would ignore the voicemails. Sasha also tried with the same result.  

The clutter in his apartment built with the suffocating sadness and blind resentment in his chest.

There were some days when crying was all he could manage, and Armin would consider it a personal accomplishment. 

He was empty. He was alone. Crying had become something that required a massive amount of effort.

Armin saw no end.

Eren still dropped by. He knocked. He was rejected. He left.

Armin forced away all the people who wanted to care. He was alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Sometimes he considered reaching out. Sometimes he wondered why he would ever want that; who would want to bear the burden of his sadness? His sadness was his fault. His burden to bear alone. 

Alone.

The word resonated in his mind. It bounced off his skull painfully and embedded itself in the forefront of his every thought.

He would hear couples laughing in the diner below. He was alone. He would consider calling Connie, but Connie had Sasha. He was still alone.

Once he'd picked up the phone to call his grandfather, and he considered that maybe he was losing his god damn mind.

It was the middle of July when the sadness broke him.

He paced, he wrote, he read. He paced, he stared at walls, he studied nothing at all. Nothing would keep the thoughts at bay. No amount of busy work would keep his loneliness from gnawing at his insides. He felt himself bleeding from the inside.

At the end of his rope, Armin found himself with two options: he would either hang or reach out.

Armin called Connie. No reply. 

Sasha was next in line and that call ended in the same fashion. 

In the dead of night, Mikasa had her cell phone turned off. 

He had to make a decision. Suffering by himself was no longer an option and reaching out to other people was the only way he would survive the night with his sanity intact.

Eren. He had to talk to Eren.

 

Armin stormed down the hallway. His pajama bottoms swished and tangled around his shoes, but his furious pace didn't slow or falter. Once he'd reached Eren's front door his fist fell hard on the unforgiving wood. Nothing inside the apartment stirred, but Armin didn't back down. His pride be damned, Armin let his fist fall against the wood again. Again and again he pounded against the door until finally footsteps creaked on the other side. 

"Jesus fucking Christ," he heard Eren call, "I'm coming. What the hell-" The door jerked open and all the anger Eren wore melted into concern. "Armin? Are you okay? Did something happen? Do you need to use a phone or?"

"Take a walk with me." 

Eren froze. He swiveled to peer inside the apartment before turning back to face Armin. "Are you okay? It's midnight. Do you need to come inside?"

"I'm-" He swallowed the word 'fine' and it burned on the way down. "Please. Eren." His strength failed him and his words were nothing more than a strained whisper. "Please take a walk with me."

Eren's arms, crossed over his chest, fell to his sides when he pushed his weight off the door frame. "Give me two minutes to change." He pushed the door open wider. "You look like you're going to keel over at any second. Please at least sit down."

"No," Armin shook his head and planted his feet firmly in place. He wasn't sure he could trust himself being alone with Eren without breaking down. "I can stand. I'll wait here."

Eren hesitated in the threshold before he turned to walk towards his bedroom. He left the door wide open. 

 

Two minutes had been a generous goal, because Eren reappeared before even a minute had passed. His jeans hung loose around his hips as he struggled to pull a shirt over his head. He stumbled over his own feet more than once.

The cheeky smile he offered when he caught Armin's eye lifted a heavy weight in Armin's chest. That smile could cure all ills.

"Walking helps when you're upset, right?" Armin asked when Eren pulled his front door closed. They took the stairs slowly. 

"That's what I've been told," Eren said. The diner was quiet. The employee who leaned heavily against the counter, phone in hand, spared an uninterested gaze upward. He returned his attention to his phone without so much as a wave. The bell above the door tinkled when Eren pushed it open to usher Armin through.

The barista didn't spare a second glance. 

That night was sticky and humid. The flowing fabric of Armin's bedroom clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin and sweat formed on his brow before they'd even begun walking. 

"When I was discharged from the army, it was classified as dishonorable," Eren said without any prompting, hands in his pockets, "so they won't pay for shit. Therapy included. I've kind of been living by the phrase 'walk it off' for a while now."

Armin didn't know what to say at first. "Is it working?"

"I don't know. You're the scientist, you tell me."

"Exercise releases endorphins in the brain which can result in temporary feelings of happiness," Armin quoted. "But they're just that: temporary."

"Sometimes," Eren said, twining his hands behind the back of his head. His gaze locked with the constellations. "Sometimes temporary happiness is worth it. It's the little victories."

Armin heard the smile in Eren's voice and thought it best to keep his eyes cast down.

The quiet that hung suspended between them was comfortable rather than suffocating, and for the first time in a long time, Armin felt at home in Eren's presence. He'd lived in the same town for years upon years, but it wasn't the location that made him happy. Rather, it was the people or one person in particular. Home isn't always a structure built from steel and wooden frames. Sometimes it's made of earth and blood. Sometimes, home has a heartbeat.

Armin was home at Eren's side, and it was a terrifying.

The lights from bars, clubs, and late-night shops blazed and overpowered the feeble street lamps that lined the sidewalks. Armin remembered a time when those same streetlamps provided all the light he and his friends needed to run the streets. 

Sweat rolled down Armin's back and dampened the ends of his hair. Eren seemed impassive to it. "Everything's changed since the last time we were here together." Eren commented idly. "Change is a lot harder to accept than your graduation speech made it out to be."

"Young naivety," Armin said shortly, "that died a long time ago."

A young girl cut across their path, darting out of a local boutique. She squealed and laughed when the boy who ran after her finally caught up. Clinging to the nearest light pole, she spun around it to press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips. They both bubbled over with infectious laughter. Armin heard Eren chuckle as he watched them.

"No it didn't," Eren said, "Naivety is just a fancy word for hope. There are so many things that have an expiration date, but hope isn't one of them."

"You really believe that?" Armin asked.

Eren gave a slow nod; his glassy eyes reflected that his head was full of thoughts. "Armin, I've seen the depths of hell, but I still fully believe that hope never dies."

"I hope you're right."

"That's the spirit."

When they turned to circle back to the diner, Eren pressed a hand to Armin's lower back, and Armin jolted forward with his back arched. There was a knowing glint in Eren's eyes; Armin's lower back had always been relatively sensitive. 

"Someone's jumpy," Eren said returning the conversation to the comfortable pace they'd achieved.

Armin scowled. "I'm not jumpy, and you know it."

The low chuckle Eren laughed had Armin biting his tongue. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Eren, it's too hot for coffee."

"You're right," Eren agreed passively, "but I'm not intending to sleep tonight unless you are. Caffeine is a must."

"You don't have to do that. I'm okay now. It was just a bad night, but I'm okay."

Eren ignored him completely. "Do you still take sugar in your coffee?"

"Four packets," Armin confirmed. He wanted to feel weary. He wanted to dread extended contact with Eren. In the back of his mind, he knew that now was the prime time to slink back into his apartment, but he couldn't talk himself into leaving Eren's side. That was, and always had been, his most fatal flaw.

He could never make himself walk away.

Eren ordered while Armin sat at the base of the stairs. He picked at his nails and ringed sweat out of his hair. Though it could've been a figment on his imagination, Armin almost thought he could smell the musk of his own sweat. His face twisted in disgust. 

"Come on," Eren's voice called for his attention. He stood over him with a cup in each hand. "You can take a shower at my place."

"I have a shower in my apartment."

"And I'm incredibly happy for you," Eren sounded tired. "But, just this once can we go through with my idea."

Sighing, Armin gave a short nod, and followed Eren up the stairs with a silent pout. While Eren fished for his house key, Armin was entrusted to hold the coffee. He did his job well; Eren on the other hand struggled. 

Minutes passed before he found the key and let them both inside. 

"Shampoo is in that cupboard," Eren said as he guided Armin through his small apartment. Though Armin's had the same floor plan, he listened thoughtfully. "Towels are under the sink. I'll get something for you to change into." 

When Eren turned to leave, Armin caught him by the elbow. "Don't do that. You're doing too much for me, Eren." 

Ern wore an unconvincing smile when he met Armin's eyes. "Back in the day, I would've moved mountains for you. Bringing you a change of clothes really isn't a big deal."

Armin wanted to argue, but it had lost its appeal. He felt weak in the knees. "Okay."

"Okay." Eren closed the bathroom door behind himself and left Armin alone.

The shower was quick. Nervous energy loomed heavily in the pit of his stomach, and he wondered just how big of a mistake he was making. Eren had said that temporary happiness could be considered a minor victory, but he wondered how hard he would crash once the buzz faded. 

When the bathroom door opened, Armin froze where he stood. 

"They're in the sink," Eren reminded him before leaving him alone.

Armin was overwhelmed. He was tired, and emotionally drained. Eren made him happy unlike anyone else ever could, and he was so angry over it. When he felt the tears begin to fall, Armin did very little to keep them at bay. He wondered why he fought so furiously to ward Eren away. He vaguely remembered college. He remembered crashing, burning, and craving Eren's touch. 

He remembered the misery and the devastation.

He also remembered times before it all fell apart. He remembered rocks being thrown at windows. He remembered camping out in the darkened woods under a cloudless sky. He remembered star gazing and ghost stories and sharing their deepest and most personal thoughts.

He remembered falling in love with Eren Jaeger because that had been his entire life story. 

It trumped the bitterness every time. 

 

The sleeping pants Eren had laid out for him were much too long and drooped around his waist in a less than flattering way. Armin recognized the shirt immediately. It was from Maria High; a gym shirt with the word 'JAEGER' scrawled across the front in faded Sharpie. Armin studied it for a long while before finally slipping it over his head.

The foggy mirror allowed him to study his state of disarray. He was pale, eyes sunken and lips reddened from constant biting. He looked tired.

Eren waited in the living room with his back turned. Though the television was on, he seemed disinterested in it. When the bathroom door creaked open, he turned to look over the back of the couch, and the warm smile he wore made Armin's heart work harder.

"It kinda fits," Eren laughed. 

"Depends on how loose your definition of the word 'fit' is," Armin countered, folding his legs beneath himself before he sat.

"The clothes stay on your body, and that means they fit."

"Oh well in that case," Armin tilted his head against the back of the couch, "they fit like a glove."

Eren smiled and returned his attention to flipping through channels. At two in the morning, most of the stations were airing pay-per-view and informercials.

"I've got an idea," Eren announced, but disappeared before he enlightened Armin as to what the idea was. When he ducked back into the living room, he held a familiar DVD. He showcased the title dramatically.

 _Along Came Polly._ Armin openly and genuinely laughed. "You still have that movie?"

"Dude, yes." Eren dropped to his knees in front of the TV and worked on setting up the DVD player. "It's important."

"I guess it's a little important," Armin relented, pulling his knees against his torso. 

"Just a little."

While previews for movies released ten years before rolled across the screen, Eren busied himself by microwaving the coffee and filling multiple bowls to the brim with fatty snacks. He carried them all back to the sofa skillfully and Armin watched in blatant awe.

"You never fail to be impressive, Eren Jaeger," Armin said, taking his coffee and relieving Eren of a couple bowls. 

It was dark, so Armin wasn't sure of what he saw, but he was almost convinced that Eren blushed. "I live to impress," Eren dropped onto the couch.

"You do it well," Armin whispered into his coffee. Eren was too engrossed in the movie to hear. 

 

An hour passed without a single word between them. Eren was completely immersed in the bad dialog and overused tropes, while Armin was completely immersed in watching Eren himself.

His eyes wrinkled at the edges when he laughed. Stubble dotted his jaw and cast a dark shadow across his face. His hair was wild and mussed, a result of the wind from their walk and his refusal to take a shower after Armin had. 

Armin found himself biting his cheek whenever Eren would peer over to be sure that Armin had caught something apparently hilarious. Finally, when the screen had become dramatically darker, Eren looked at him with a much different expression.

Armin's eyes darted to the screen, and suddenly he understood. The kissing scene that had been the background noise to their first kiss. 

Though he was both embarrassed and ashamed, Armin turned back to meet Eren's lingering gaze. "Is temporary happiness really worth it?" Armin asked cautiously. 

"Honestly?"

Armin nodded. 

"The crash sucks," Eren said, "but you have something to look forward to. Mountain tops always come with their fair share of valleys, y'know?" 

Armin felt his heart pound against his chest painfully, and blood flooded his ears. His own voice sounded muffled. "Is it okay if I ask you something else?"

"Shoot."

"Can I kiss you?"

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Eren visibly fought it, but lost. "Do your worst."

Armin wasted little time in crawling across the limited space between them. It was unpracticed and frantic in its first few seconds, but once Armin realized that, no, Eren was not going to pull away, the pace slowed dramatically. 

He took his time massaging Eren's lower lip with gentle bites and runs of his tongue. Eren's hands ran the expanse of his back before finding the bravery to dip lower and outline the curves of Armin's ass. When Armin whined, Eren moaned in turn.

Courage took the place of doubt when Armin felt the tip of Eren tongue dart past his parted lips. With his fingers tangled in the length of Eren's hair, Armin met Eren's tongue head on. He probed the depths of Eren's mouth greedily, and Eren held him closer with a grip tight enough to bruise.

Armin trailed wet kisses across Eren's jaw before grazing his teeth along the unmarked skin along Eren's neck. His head fell to the side when Armin licked a broad strip along his sensitive skin. He placed open mouthed kisses against Eren's throat while Eren palmed at the slowly forming erection in Armin's pants.

Teeth locked onto Eren's skin as Armin tried fruitlessly to muffle a groan. Fingernails punctured Eren's back, but the gasp he took in was more erotic than surprised. 

There was a power shift when Eren pushed off the arm of the sofa and laid Armin's onto his back. Armin didn't fight it. 

Eren fit perfectly in the space between his legs. Shaking fingertips lifted the hem of Armin's shirt, and Eren peppered the exposed skin in feather light kisses. Occasionally, he would stop to lick and suck at pieces of skin he found particularly interesting. Armin squirmed under his touch and felt his breath heave when Eren would intentionally brush against his crotch. Eren's self satisfied laughter interrupted the sloppy sounds of wet kisses and labored panting.

"What?" Armin asked, tugging on Eren's hair far harder than was fair.

Eren winced and smirked just long enough to last through their extended eye contact. "Age didn't take any of the sensitivity out of you."

Armin flushed and turned his gaze away. A curious tongue forged a path along Armin's abdomen that ended at his left nipple. Gentle lips closed around it, and the whine that escape Armin's lips what sharp. Eren ran the pad of his thumb along the other nipple as his other hand waited patiently at the waistband of Armin's loaned sleeping pants. 

"Eren," Armin whispered in something of a breathless moan.

Eren pressed a kiss against his lips and drank in quite whines and whimpers. "I need you to tell me my boundaries," Eren's voice was rough, pupils blown wide.

Despite his chest rising and falling heavily, Armin's voice was almost normal in its tone. "Do your worst."

Suddenly, all contact was lost, and Eren was gone. 

"That's not exactly what I meant," Armin ground the heel of his hand into his eyes.

"I had to get a couple things," Eren said from the back of the apartment, "for just in case scenarios."

Armin nodded weakly. "I appreciate that."

The sofa dipped when Eren took his rightful spot back. Cool fingertips dipped below the waist of Armin's pants and suddenly his breath was caught in his throat. 

"You're sure?" Eren asked. 

Armin barely found it in himself to meet Eren's eyes. "I'm sure."

Nodding, Eren untied the drawstring and pulled the fabric away. Armin, having opted to not wear dirty boxers, sprung free gratefully. Hissing, Armin buried his face in the back of the sofa to mask his embarrassment. 

Eren didn't seem to notice his mortification, instead he swirled his tongue around the head of Armin's erection. A lewd moan tore its way out of Armin.  The surprised gasp that followed was completely warranted. 

Lifting Armin's hips, Eren wrapped his lips around the hardened length and bobbed his head a couple times to test the broad range of noises he could get from Armin. 

"Wanna try something different?" Eren asked as he ran the pads of his fingers along Armin's quivering thighs. 

Armin wasn't capable of forming meaningful words, but he could give curious expressions. 

Eren laughed. "Get on your knees and bend over for me."

"Why?"

"Armin," Eren took his hands away, "we're branching out."

Armin had a handful of reasons not to trust Eren outside of the bedroom, but in their most intimate moments, Eren had been nothing but considerate. Rolling onto all fours, Armin rested his forehead against the couch cushions. "Is this what you had in mind?"

Eren sat back with his lower lip caught between unforgiving teeth. His skin was red and puffy from being chewed on. "Yeah," he croaked.

Taking in a deep breath, Armin relaxed, spreading his knees and closing his eyes. Gentle hands caressed the skin on Armin's thighs; loving fingertips skated along exposed skin and raised goosebumps everywhere they went. Finally, they came to a resting place, and Armin felt his cheeks being pulled apart.

Something wet and foreign pressed against his puckered hole. Armin tensed and did his best now to mewl like an animal. Though he was disgusted, he was more aroused than anything else. Eren seemed to be waiting for a protest, but when he received none, he continued. 

Armin sighed with pleasure when Eren's tongue pressed flush against his hole. He squirmed, spreading his knees wider while trying not to fall off of the couch. Eren did his part in helping in Armin's desperate attempt to spread himself wider. 

Eren readjusted his hands, pulling Armin further apart until he was full exposed. Without so much as a small warning, Eren probed with his tongue.

With a needy whine, Armin arched his back, but Eren pressed it back down. With each time his tongue was reinserted, he reached further and further until Armin was a panting wreck. Precome leaked down his throbbing erection and dripped onto the leather sofa.

His cheeks were flushed, but the majority of his blood had left his head leaving him light headed as Eren redirected him onto his back. Eren took the initiative clean the tip of Armin's cock. He sucked tentatively, and Armin bit his own hand to contain the needy noises he's forgotten he could make. Eren made slow work of swallowing Armin's length. Hollowed cheeks and a curious tongue pushed Armin to the edge faster than he could process what was happening

But, as quickly as he reached the edge, Eren stopped. 

The whine he gave was less than attractive and far from masculine.

"Be patient," Eren instructed. Armin had forgotten the definition of patience. 

When Eren's finger found Armin's waiting hole, it was cold and slick. Armin tried his best to take a deep breath but it was shaky. 

"Are you alright?" Eren asked.

Armin nodded, and the finger slipped inside. He ground his teeth against the unwelcome friction. Eren was kind and made sure that Armin was fully ready. Lube was added, and then another finger. Finally, a third found it's way in.

When Armin pushes against them greedily, Eren removed them. 

Armin groaned in disdain, and Eren laughed and he lined up with Armin. "Are you ready?"

"Are you serious, Eren?"

Eren's cock was much larger than his fingers were, and with that, came much more satisfaction. There was a familiar burn in Eren's thrusts. Armin reveled in it, fingers caught in the couch cushions painfully.

Eren kissed his neck and chest as his thrusts became more erratic. He lost his rhythm within minutes. When Eren's fist wrapped around Armin's shaft, Armin felt his eyes flutter closed as his nails dug further into vulnerable flesh. 

Teeth dug into Armin's shoulder, and with two more thrusts, they both saw white. 

When Armin came around to reality, the credits were rolling. Two snack bowls had fallen over and the couch had become more slimy than Armin remembered. Eren rubbed away blood that had pooled on Armin's shoulder. 

"A little more violent than I'd intended," he confessed. He sounded genuinely guilty.

Armin shook his head. "I told you to do your worst. I don't mind a little bloodshed."

Eren's laughter was breathless. "Do you want a shower?"

Thought wasn't necessary. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

"I'll start the water," Eren said.

 

Regret settled in when they'd both gone to bed. Eren fell asleep effortlessly with his arm thrown across Armin's torso, leaving Armin to battle his nagging thoughts. Suddenly, Armin wondered what he'd been thinking in knocking on Eren's door. He'd literally walked into something he couldn't trust himself with. 

He had to leave. 

He fucked up. He fucked up beyond any point of return. He'd done so well in denying his interest in Eren Jaeger only to blow it in one night. One night of severe loneliness had ruined months of building walls and burning bridges. Somehow, Eren managed to be both the best and worst possible thing for Armin. He was a drug: the provider of the most brilliant highs and the darkest lows. 

He was a roller coaster that Armin needed to find a way off of. If he were to be honest with himself, Armin was scared. He was volatile and unfit for any kind of dependency. A relationship needed both trust and love, and he couldn't provide either of those without unadulterated fear of what could potentially happen. Armin was plagued by what-ifs. 

What if he was left alone again?

What if he was left to fend for himself again?

What if he lost Eren again and again?

In the fragile game they played, there were only two options: hurt or be hurt. Armin had chosen the latter for far too long, and now he needed to run.

 

The sun was peaking over the horizon when Armin snuck out of Eren's bed. He crept down the hall, through the living room, and shut the door silently behind him.

Once he'd reached his own door, though, he slammed it closed. Armin checked to make sure the deadbolt was locked not once or twice, but three times. He paced and he broke down until finally, he found the nerve to pick up the phone and call Mikasa. 

She didn't answer, but her voicemail did.

"You were wrong," Armin said. His voice shook and the threat of tears broke it multiple times, but he continued. "He was no good for me back then, and I'm no good for him now. You were so wrong."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin is finally beginning to come to peace with where he is in life. He regains friends he loves, he enjoys his job, and his mindset no longer revolves around Eren.  
> That doesn't mean he doesn't ghost through Armin's every waking thought though.  
> He still yearns for answers, and he's losing hope fast.  
> Surely, something has to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took forever I'm sorry ily.  
> I think it was worth the wait though! We'll see. WILL ARMIN EVER BE HAPPY  
> WHO KNOWS

Armin paced. Once silent floorboards groaned under his feet as he made laps around the small floor plan of his apartment. From the kitchen, to the living room, down the hall, into his bedroom, and back again. It was too quiet. Turning on the television suffocated some of his rising anxiety. The radio helped too. They bled together into a meaningless symphony of smeared words. Though Armin found himself with a headache, it meant he could no longer focus on his thoughts. It was a small price to pay for peace. 

Eventually, once his legs gave out and the radio turned over to the chipper voices of morning radio personalities, Armin retired to his bedroom. Past his closed door, the muffled chaos of overlapping voices and lilting melodies lulled him to sleep as he lay curled into himself, forehead pressed against his knees.

His sleep was restless and violent, and he was pulled out of it by the sound of his cell phone buzzing against his nightstand. Armin watched with one eye opened as it inched closer and closer to the edge before falling to clatter against wooden flooring. Once the phone hit the ground, the vibrating topped and the caller was sent to voicemail which allowed Armin a few moments of peace. 

They were fleeting, though. 

The vibrating picked up again, louder against the floor. Armin buried his head between blankets and counted as the missed call count rose and rose until it peaked at 7.

The motivation to move was no where to be found, so Armin lay still as the dead and watched as flashing headlights made shadows dance across his bedroom walls. In the quiet of his bedroom, Armin's mind immediately gravitated towards Eren. Armin wondered how upset he was or how angry.

He wondered how Eren felt when the tables had been turned and he was the one abandoned with no explanation or validation. 

Armin tangled his fingers in the sheets. 

He wondered if Eren hated him. He wondered if he would ever move past the portion of his life where he was swept into Eren Jaeger's gravitational pull, only to be lost in the vastness of his galaxy. 

Armin sought happiness, but clung to Eren as if they could go hand in hand. Possibly they could, but never in this lifetime. Never under these circumstances.

When his phone buzzed again, Armin finally dangled from the side of his bed to retrieve it. 7 missed called. 2 from Mikasa. 3 from Eren. 2 from Connie. 4 new voicemails also awaited him. 

He deleted those before giving himself the chance to listen to them.

Every muscle in his body ached. His head throbbed, and his skin itched from marinating in his own sweat from the night before. Armin stumbled through his bedroom, tripping over his own feet and piles of discarded laundry as he clamored towards the bathroom.He felt as though he were drunk or still trapped in a dream. 

Fingertips skated along cold walls in search for a light switch, and when light flooded the room it was blinding. Of course, the faux light was not nearly as hard to look at as Armin's own reflection. 

His hair was suitable for birds to nest in. His clouded eyes were wide and sported deep purple bags that dripped into the apples of his cheeks. His complexion was stark white save for the bruises that snaked their way down his neck and disappeared below the drooping neckline of Eren's gym shirt. Blood stained the shirt in ugly brown splotches, and when curious fingers peeled the fabric away from his skin, Armin could make out individual teeth marks cresting his shoulder. A sickly yellow bruise blossomed around the wound in a halo. 

Armin couldn't sigh loudly enough when he stripped the shirt away only to reveal more bruises in the shapes of fingerprints pressed into his narrow hips. 

 

The cold spray of the shower battered Armin's face. Icy droplets poked and prodded at his skin like needles and turned his insides to slush. The water washed away the flaking blood on Armin's shoulder and filled a small ruby pool in the valley of Armin's collarbone. When it overflowed, ruby rivulets raced down his bare skin and splashed in the pale pink puddle he waded in. 

Water all but suffocated him when he bowed his head against a tiled wall, and fresh tears felt blistering hot as they chased away droplets that dripped from his hair.

Armin was blissfully numb in every way when he began to towel himself off. His muscles were stiff, frozen solid, and his brain had burned itself out. Despite the summer heat, Armin dressed in a thick wool sweater and ill-fitting dress slacks. He'd dropped so much weight over the summer that nothing really fit him properly anymore.

Once he was dressed and his hair was tied back in a dripping knot, Armin took back to pacing. 

Distantly, Armin could hear his phone buzzing on his nightstand. He didn't have to wonder who it was, though. The crashing door down the hall and thundering footsteps that led to his front door were clue enough. 

"Armin," Eren called through the door.

Armin didn't speak. He didn't move. He'd stopped breathing. His weary eyes raked over the door, and shaking fists slipped into the pockets of his slacks. 

"I'm not moving until we can talk about this," Eren warned.

"You'll be waiting a while, so I hope you're comfortable," Armin's voice shook pitifully. He blamed the lingering cold from his shower. "I'd rather use the fire escape."

"You know," Eren said, the door creaked when he leaned against it, "avoiding the problem won't make it go away."

"That didn't stop you, did it?" Malice seeped into his words like venom. Armin clapped a hand over his mouth the second his question registered in his mind, and guilt boiled in the pit of his stomach. 

"What are you talking about?" Eren asked.

The guilt was extinguished as quickly as it had flared up. Eren only had to ask one question to send Armin from sorrowful and guilty to seeing red. 

Armin stormed across the living room, and wasted no time in slinging the front door wide open. It crashed against the nearest wall in a thunderous clap, and Eren nearly fell through the gaping threshold but Armin didn't so much as flinch. 

"What do you mean," he asked, "'what am  _I_ talking about?"

Eren stood at attention, back rigid and eyebrows knit together. "Why are you acting like this?" Eren prodded. "Why are you acting like I'm some kind of monster when all I've done has been to try and win you over?"

" _Because, Eren,"_ Armin shouted loud enough to hear his voice bounce off empty hallway walls, "you  _left_ me. You walked out of my life and you didn't stop to look back. You didn't try to contact me. You tried to pawn me off on Marco and bail. You said forever, but when things got hard, you ran."

" _I wrote to you,"_ Eren's voice rose to match Armin's own. " _I wrote you. When I left, you got a letter; you at like I left you high and dry."_ _  
_

" _You didn't write_ _soon enough. I suffered. For an entire year I suffered."_ Armin stepped forward, and Eren met him toe to toe. Despite the difference in height, Armin still felt strong. " _I waited for you. I wrote to you. I told all my friends about you and how great you were and how you completed me and in return I got nothing. I got stood up at Christmas. I got no phone calls, no messages saying you were alive. I got nothing but depression and anxiety because I waited for you."_

Eren's scowl fell and the harshness in his eyes melted. "Armin-"

"No," he bit, "let me finish." Though Eren's posture had begun to relax, Armin stood taller until he was on the balls of his feet. "I waited for you for years. I cried over you. I lost myself in you, and you left. And then.  _And then._ You think you can waltz back into my life and make me fall in love with you all over again because you think you have the right things to say." Armin's hand shook when he jabbed a finger into Eren's chest and angry tears raced in jagged lines down his cheeks. "You don't, Eren Jaeger. All I wanted was an answer. Why did you leave me alone? Why didn't you think I deserved a proper explanation? Why didn't you think I was worth a phone call? No amount of free coffee and pizzas with pickup lines can make up for what you did to me. Everyone who knew me suffered because I loved you more than I loved myself."

Eren's mouth opened and snapped closed. His jaw locked. 

"We're neighbors now." Armin announced, stepping back and sniffling. His hands dangled limp at his sides, and though they shook the were covered by his sleeves. "Nothing more, and nothing less. It always should've been this way. Please stop standing in my way."

When Eren didn't move from the doorway Armin pushed past him and took the stairs two at a time leaving Eren standing in his past. 

 

He walked through downtown in a blind rage. He crossed crosswalks with oncoming traffic coming at him from both sides and pushed through masses of people with eyes glued to the pavement. 

Behind him people shouted, and horns bellowed, but neither of those things could slow his pace. The further he walked, the more distant the sounds of the city became. Soon honking horns were replaced by whistling song birds, and the sidewalks were vacant save for Armin himself and occasional passing squirrels. 

He passed the town's only church, the very one his parents had been devout members of, and locked eyes on the adjacent cemetery. 

The entry gate to the Maria Cemetery welcomed him home. He trudged through grassy hills, eyes locked on the place where his parents had been laid to rest, beside them, his grandfather's plot had finally begun to sprout grass and wildflowers. 

He paced in front of two headstones, anxious fingers knotted together, and eyebrows creased in intense concentration. Finally, he turned to face them with a tear streaked face. 

"I don't know what I'm doing!" He announced loudly enough for his voice to echo in empty air. "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing except for fucking everything up at every turn and hurdle. I'm digging my own grave, guys, and it's too late to stop."

He waited for a reply, but heard nothing except songbirds nestled away deep inside the woods. 

"Most of my head wants to believe I hate him," he said, falling onto his knees, "but I know that it's always been like this. He's always frustrated me to no end, and that didn't stop me from falling head over heels the first time, did it?" A shaking hand reached out to dust away leaves and webs from parents' headstone. The engraved letters had begun to fade over the years. 

"I'm clinging to the past," Armin whispered past a dead smile. "I'm talking to empty caskets and warding Eren away with the past that I just can't let go of. You guys always hated him; I wish that was a gene you could've passed down. Would've saved me a whole lot of trouble, you know?" He paused to rip a handful of grass out of the earth. "What would you do?" He asked his father's name. "If- If the only person who molded you as a person and then abandoned you for years made a crash course back into your bland life, what would you do? He made me sad, but he also makes me feel completely alive. I missed that feeling, dad."

"I'm walking a slippery slope here, and I don't like either of my options. On one hand I can be alone and suffer, and on the other I can tempt fate and hurl myself back into the trap I just crawled my way out of."

In the lingering silence that followed, Armin rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. In the thick woolen sweater he wore, Armin baked under the afternoon sun. 

"I don't know either," he said, reaching to graze the headstone with shaking fingertips. "Which is the better way to suffer?"

Armin lay in the sweltering heat until the sun had dipped below the horizon and he was sure Eren had left for his afternoon jog. He groaned and his joints cracked when he forced himself onto wobbly legs. The trip back into town was far less violent and more slow-going. He fell behind crowds of tourists as they walked, adopting their lazy, rhythmic footfalls. As a lumbering herd, they roamed the city and clogged crosswalks, earning multiple honks of car horns. 

A dull ache thrummed in his chest, but it was more annoying that debilitating. The feeling of empty sadness was something he'd grown used to over years of unfailing disappointment. All seemed to revolve around Eren, and this time was no different. 

He wondered why sometimes, but the question didn't need to be asked. 

He loved him.

He loved him just as much as he had when Eren warded him from bullies in Freshman year. He loved him just as much as he did when they danced at Prom. He loved him just a much as he had when they slept together for the first time.

He loved Eren, and it was an unavoidable fact of life that the heart can't always have what it wants. Armin fell victim to hope every time it arose though. 

Once the diner was in sight, Armin fell away from the group and teetered on the curb. A nearly desolate two lane highway separated him from solace, and he crossed it without looking either way. 

Cheerful patrons of the diner greeted him by name when he stepped inside. Some asked how he was, but Armin ignored the question. Instead he offered tight lipped smiles and strained nods as he pushed his way upstairs and slumped against his front door.

The two apartments across the hall looked down on him. One was filled with a quiet family who rarely left the building. The other was hauntingly empty. 

The neighboring door opened when he fell against his own. 

"You okay?" Eren asked. His voice seemed doused in something foreign. Maybe coldness or distance. It was unfamiliar and made Armin draw back. 

Earbuds were lodged in his ears and he bounced on the balls of his feet. Clearly, Armin had misjudged his jogging routine, or maybe Eren had been just as busy sulking as Armin had. Either way, Armin felt sick being in his presence; a lot of guilt and some bitterness were at fault. 

"Fine," he replied, groping blindly behind his back for the doorknob. 

Eren sighed. "Armin-"

Armin shot an icy glare that froze Eren's words mid-sentence. 

"Right," he sidestepped towards the direction of the diner, "I'll catch you later then. Have a good one."

When Armin was silent, Eren took it as his cue to take the stairs two at a time until he disappeared into the bustling downstairs. 

He was embraced by silence when he finally locked himself inside his apartment, and he'd almost made it to the bathroom with a shower in mind before his cell phone rang and broke his peace. 

Fishing the device from his pocket, Armin answered without so much as looking at the caller ID. He couldn't find it in himself to care about who he was talking to. Mentally, he was prepared to take on anyone. Physically, though, he wanted to sink into the ground and never see another human being again.

"What the fuck is going on?" Connie asked when the line connected. 

"What?" Armin felt a headache coming on full force. 

"Eren called me," Connie informed him. His head pounded. "So, I'd like to ask again: what the fuck is going on?"

"Dysfunction."

"No kidding," Connie didn't seem impressed by the answer, "come over."

"I can't tonight. I'm busy," Armin lied. 

"Alright. So you'll be here tomorrow at one. Don't come before then, though," Connie warned, "I have to get a full fourteen hours of sleep. It takes time to maintain my level of beauty."

"I will be?" Armin asked though he knew there was no argument to be had. 

"See you at one," The call disconnected and Armin was left to drown in silence. His head throbbed and he was clothed in dirt and sweat, but Armin still found no problem in falling face first into bed. During his decent, he heard his phone clatter onto the floor.

He hoped it broke. 

A defeated groan filled empty air when he heard it vibrate from somewhere beneath his bed. He had been completely defeated by every possible twist in fate's design. 

 

Connie paced in front of the recliner he'd pushed Armin into. With a bag of potato chips in one hand and the other flailing in the air, he continued his march.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"I feel like I've heard that before," Armin settled back and mentally prepared for an inevitable tongue lashing.

Standing at a halt, Connie locked eyes with Armin. His lack of amusement was uncomfortable, and Armin felt small.

"Sorry," Armin said, "do you want me to answer?"

"Eren told me his side," Connie climbed into his recliner to squat in the plush seat, shoes digging into worn fabric. "So tell me yours." As an afterthought, Connie held out the bag. "Chip?"

"Ah," Armin raised a hand to ward away the bag, "no thank you."

Connie shrugged. "Tell me if you change your mind."

After a brief thumbs up, Armin breathed in steadily. He avoided eye contact like death itself. 

"Uh, so Eren came back into town."

"I gathered that part a while ago," Connie said past the fistful of chips he shoved into his gaping mouth. "Fast forward a little, I don't wanna fall asleep."

Scowling, Armin continued. "Eren came back into town, and suddenly I forgot who I am all over again. It's like I get so wrapped up in him, that I forget I'm a person too." 

"Clearly you two care about each other-" Connie pondered when Armin cut him short. 

"Cared. Past tense," he corrected. 

"Right," Connie dragged the word out until it died in stale air. "Past tense."

Armin nodded.

"Let me ask you something, Armin," Connie requested. "Do you blame Eren for what's happening to you?"

Guilt found him immediately, Armin knew the answer, but he didn't want to say it out loud. The bitterness he'd be festering was better left in the dark. "Kind of."

When Connie shook his head, Armin felt his confidence quake. "You can't blame someone else for your own personal failings. Even if they're the catalyst, it's not their fault for existing. Unless I guess they're purposely going for sabotage, but c'mon, man, Eren would move the world if you asked him to. He ain't out for sabotage."

"I know," Armin tread carefully while Connie's gaze turned scrutinizing. 

"Do you?" He prodded. "Look, man. You need peace. I think we can agree on that, yeah?"

"Yeah," he breathed. 

"But to do that you have to talk to Eren."

"I can't," Armin shut the plan down before it could blossom, "we aren't capable of talking without it turning to flirting, or yelling, or sex."

"You fucked him?" Connie questioned, and Armin slumped into his chair. "Oh my God; you fucked him."

Refusing to give a firm yes or no, Armin's gaze found the nearest open window. Connie's followed. 

"Okay, so maybe you can't talk to him now, but you have to eventually. There' a reason you two were forced back together again. Maybe it was to find closure, or maybe you guys are getting the chance to have the relationship you were meant to have. I'd like to think that's why he's back."

"No," Armin refuted, "he's back because Mikasa led him here. Good intentions, expected end result."

"You're not giving any other result a chance." Tense quiet penetrated the space between the two men. "So no denying that, right?"

"No."

"Well, thank fuck for that. We might actually be making progress." The bag in Connie's lap rustled when he re-positioned. "Now, like I was saying: you need communication." He caught the protest formulating in Armin's mind before he even got to unhinge his jaw. "If you say the phrase 'I can't' I'm literally going to suffocate you with this bag."

Slumping, Armin gave in. "I'll try."

"I can settle for that," Connie sighed. "Just remember that you don't have to talk to him now, or a week from now, or even two years from now. What you need is to find yourself and be comfortable with who you are before you ever say a word to him, but don't let him get away before you two talk. Because god damn do you need to talk."

Armin sighed and reclined his head. Though his eyes were closed, he felt Connie's chip bag intrude on his space.

"Chip?" Connie whispered.

When Armin laughed, Connie did as well and the tension fell away from their meeting. Soon they were accompanied by large bowls of snacks and three two liter drinks as Connie booted up his newest gaming console. Times reverted back to before Eren had made a crash course back into Armin's life. He knew that, slowly, he could become whole, and one day he may be strong enough to not blame Eren for his own personal weakness.

Today was not that day, though. 

 

Days faded into weeks which mounted into two months of silence between himself and Eren. It was hard at times. Passing eye contact was painful and cold shoulders burned, but whenever Armin wanted to fold, Connie was there.

Really, he was there whenever he wasn't working or sleeping. Whether it be days spent locked in the apartment or nights on the town, Connie never complained or suggested Armin try out his own strength without constant guidance, rather he seemed happy for the company. 

Sasha asked weekly when their wedding would be, and seemed genuinely disappointed by the fact that neither man had proposed. 

Whenever the apartment felt too cramped, or the smell of stale alcohol in bars made Armin queasy, Connie would relent and follow Armin into a locally owned bookstore just on the edge of town. Hours were spent there while Armin was lost in rows of books and Connie played rousing games of 'Who's Hot and Who's Not' games using magazine covers for reference. 

"Hey, Armin!" Connie called over three aisles. He stood on a bench to get a location on his friend. 

"Armin poked his head around the nearest corner. "Yeah?"

"Question for you," Connie announced, hopping onto solid ground with two magazines in hand. Once they met, Connie held them out at an arm's length. "Okay here's my question," he said loud enough to grab the attention of the community book club, mostly made up of elderly ladies. "Which Hugh Jackman would you rather lay? Hunky Wolverine Hugh Jackman," he raised one cover, "or home-maker, makes-you-dinner-and-rubs-your-feet-every-night Hugh Jackman?' He raised the Homes and Gardens version of a smiling Hugh Jackman in a warm blue sweater.

"What?" Armin felt blood rush to his ears, and his neck felt uncomfortably warm. Seven pairs of eyes fell on him from the attached cafe; all of which were elderly and intensely interested in his choice. 

"C'mon, Armin," Connie prodded Armin's side with a bony elbow, "Rough, ready, and sweaty Jackman, or Sweet love-makin' Jackman."

"Uh," shyly, Armin rubbed his hands together, his audience had grown by three new onlookers, "the latter?"

"HE CHOSE DOOR NUMBER TWO LADIES AND GENTS, YES YOU HEARD CORRECTLY. HE WANTS THAT TENDER LOVIN'."

"Oh my God," Armin groaned, side stepping towards the aisle he'd just come from. 

Connie snickered, tucking the magazines under his arm. "No one's surprised, really. I mean you chose Eren over a beefcake like me."

When Armin scoffed, Connie didn't waver in his confidence. 

"You're right, Connie," an oddly familiar voice said from the entrance of the store. "We look more and more alike every single day. We're almost twins." Armin couldn't quite place where he knew it from, but he didn't have to wonder for too long when a wide palm came crashing between his shoulder blades and sent him hurdling forward. "And where the hell have you been?" He asked. 

"Good to see you too, Reiner," his smile was pained, but genuine. 

Reiner disregarded him in favor of studying the bookstore with dull boredom. "How about we bust this place and get some drinks?"

" _Hell yes!_ " Connie said in a mad dash for the door, magazines in tow. "That's my idea of a good time!"

Multiple middle aged cashiers rushed after him in a wide eyed dash to take the stolen magazines back inside, and give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime about stealing. Reiner guided Armin past the scene with a booming laugh, but past the choas of laughter and cashiers clucking like flustered hens, Armin clearly heard one of the elderly ladies finally speak up from the small book club.

"Now that's a beefcake I'd like to get my hands on," she whispered, glasses slipping down the thin bridge of her nose.

Armin wasn't the only one to hear her. All the ladies went up in a tizzy when Reiner's laugh grew exponentially louder. 

"Of course, all gorgeous women are invited to join us," he said as he pushed Armin out of the door.

There were loud oohs and ahhs and some members of the party fanned themselves with worn out books and pamphlets. 

"You really know how to make an entrance, huh?" Armin asked as Reiner guided him through throngs of people. Heavy rain clouds looked as if they were prepared to burst as the sun was engulfed by night. 

Reiner snorted. "Who wants to be the bearer of bad news and tell them I'm gay?"

Shuffling to the side, Armin was able to get a good look at Reiner's face. He didn't sport a smirk and there was no glint in his eyes. 

He shrugged, completely nonchalant about is confession. "Must be something in the water around here."

They fell silent and listened to cars passing and groups of people, young and old, laughing and enjoying their night. 

"I didn't know you still lived around here," Armin commented, eyes locked on the neon bar sign a few blocks ahead. It blinked flashy red and greens to advertise Karaoke Night, and its blinding light reflected in puddles that lingered in the nooks of curbs and deep cracks in the sidewalk. 

"I don't," Reiner laughed, "you think I'd still live in shithole towns like this?"

"No," kicking his shoes through a mud puddle, Armin shrugged, "but, I didn't think I would either." Silence resumed. "So, if you don't live here, why are you here in the first place?"

As they walked, Reiner reached to slap the back of a tall street sign. "Connie called. Said you needed friends right now, and, hey, we were friends once, right?"

Fight as he may, a smile still snaked its way onto Armin's lips. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Also, I wanted to show off my boyfriend anyway, so I figured this was great timing."

Armin rolled his eyes.

"He's the tall, dark, and handsome type," Reiner wiggled his eyebrows, "a little sweaty, but who gives a shit, right? Connie agreed that I should bring him. The more the merrier or some bullshit. Even Bertl brought a friend to introduce you, too."

Armin huffed a humorless laugh. "It's like a surprise birthday party."

"Kinda." Reiner agreed, "but it's even better because we don't even need a holiday to come and celebrate knowing you," his booming laugh caught the attention of passerby across the street all of which looked alarmed. Armin stiffled a giggle in the neck of his shirt. 

"Armin!" Connie bolted to meet them head on, but was clothes-lined in the hook of Reiner's arm. Though he groaned, he upheld a gleaming thumbs up to signal that he hadn't broken anything major. "Boy did I miss this treatment," Connie joked though his voice was strained from having the air knocked out of him.

"And I missed my favorite punching bag."

Reiner led both of them inside; Connie doubled over and Armin with stomach tied in knots. 

 

Sasha sat at the head of a nearly empty table. Only two other seats were occupied, one by a large man who looked more nervous than Armin felt and the other with his feet kicked onto the table and his nose buried in a thick novel.

Sasha's chair nearly toppled over backwards when she shot onto her feet and took him in a suffocating hug. "Armin! Welcome to your public intervention!"

Blood rushed to the apples of his cheeks when his eyes bulged, and Armin sputtered. "T-Thank you?"

Giggling, Sasha shoved him closer to the table. Reiner introduced the nervous man as his significant other, Bertholdt, loud enough for the entire bar to hear. Connie clapped him on the back to show his approval and Bertholdt offer an uncertain smile.

Apparently unable to read in the midst of the commotion, the man with the book finally peaked above it's yellowed pages. 

"Well, I'll be damned," he said. He dropped his feet to the floor and the crashing sound of his chair landing back on all fours made Armin cringe. "Armin Arlert, you haven't changed a bit. Except you seem to have forgotten what a hair cut is."

A toothy grin broke Armin's mask of shock and embarrassment. 

"Samuel!"

"The one and only," he stood, arms outstretched. Neither of them were too prideful to hug. 

"I never thought I'd see you again," Armin laughed, raking his hair behind his ears. 

Samuel shrugged. "I don't have much going for me, honestly. I'm an intern at a tattoo parlor in downtown. Bertholdt works at the flower shop across the street. I went out for a smoke break, he was watering petunias or some shit, and boom bam we hit it off, and here I am."

"Huh," Armin smiled, "I'm almost glad we both hit a dead end."

"I shoulda figured life would come to this," Samuel said past a smirk, "I backpacked instead of going to college, and end up with you as a best friend all over again."

"Life is a tragedy."

"You always acted like it," Armin couldn't deny Samuel's accusation, "and now I'm finally starting to see it."

Rolling his eyes, Armin dug his elbow into Samuel's side. Their group talked and bonded in the middle of a bustling bar, and Armin felt as though he'd been adopted into a new family constructed of the people he'd always cared for but shoved away.

He realized that mistakes were made, and rejoiced in a new start that lacked consequence.

Life could only look up; it was no tragedy unless Armin let it be.  

 

Armin stopped counting days and started enjoying them. He spent mornings in the park with Samuel before walking him to the parlor before his shift began. He hung around the diner through lunch and made a point to buy at least one meal a day for a perfect stranger. A lot of his friends were made that way. Early afternoons were dedicated to walks for self reflection, and the nights saw his apartment jam packed with Sasha, Connie, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Samuel for game nights to movie nights, to everything in between.

Intense Dance Dance Revolution battles between Connie and Reiner made the floor creak, and his book selection was taken over by Samuel who insisted on merging it with his own collection. Soon, it overflowed the bookshelf and they had to make towers in the floor. 

In the beginning, there were always at least three friends offering to stay through the night with Armin to make sure depression and anxiety weren't given a chance to flare up. This meant that Armin was given no choice but the clear out the spare bedroom where he locked away every item that didn't deserve to see the light of day. 

A trash bag filled with Eren's stuff from their teenage years found itself flung into the dumpster outside. The gym shirt he'd lent out on the night of their one-night-stand was stuffed inside the same bag. Samuel swirled cob webs onto the end of a feather-duster while Reiner and Berthodlt made a two man job out of fitting sheets onto a full sized bed. Sasha vacuumed and ran over the feet of anyone who refuse to move for her while Connie supervised and asked if he could get anyone snacks.

Only a heavy box of letters survived the overhaul of the room, and Armin tucked it safely beneath his bed in case he ever needed a reminder of what he'd overcome. 

They made up a damn good team. They were healthy. They were uplifting, and honest in their intentions of lifting Armin up rather than dragging him down.

It worked. 

Slowly, as weeks piled on top of one another and Armin started working again, thoughts of Eren became less and less frequent. Passing one another in the diner didn't bother make Armin's skin crawl. Eye contact didn't send up a plume of butterflies in his gut. They simply existed around each other.

Occasionally, Eren would leave a coffee by Armin's door, but Armin would trash it immediately. Connie had warned him about communication before he'd found his independence, and he refused to break until he knew he was making the right decision. Thankfully, Eren heeded his wishes and never once tried to talk to him face to face.

He was figuring out the meaning of recovery. It wasn't fleeting moments of happiness. 

It was peace.

There was no minor victory in happiness chased away by immediate regret, and Armin learned that the hard way. Happiness, he discovered, came slowly as he became sure of himself and understood his value as an individual. Previously, he'd found his worth in Eren's perception of him, but he would no longer accept that. Of course, he craved that approval, but he was almost sure he didn't need it. 

Health took time, and happiness took growth. He didn't rush any progress he made and neither did his team of cheerleaders. 

Nights became less lonely though the apartment increasingly became emptier. Reiner and Bertholdt were the first to return back home, though they visited every Friday to celebrate another week of progress at the bar. Sasha went next, followed by Connie only a few days later with Armin's permission.

Samuel and Armin remained as roommates, and Thomas was often involved in their antics through fuzzy Skype calls. He'd found success in California, and his every day make up skills had improved drastically since Freshman year. 

"If you ever have to take another ID picture, hit me up, man," Thomas laughed into the computer mic, "because next time I get a hold of you you'll have cheekbones that could kill and lashes a mile long."

"I'll call you when I have to renew my licence," Armin smiled.

"You better," Thomas's threat cut out when their line became shaky. "Anyway, I'm gonna get going. The night is young here and I have things and people to do. Not that I don't love seeing your lovely faces every now and then."

Samuel saluted and Armin gave a brief wave. 

"Leave room for Jesus," Samuel called.

Thomas rolled his eyes and closed the call without offering a goodbye. Samuel slammed his laptop closed before rummaging the kitchen and leaving Armin to his own devices in the living room. In Samuel's absence, Armin blindly flipped through TV channels with his chin propped stop his knees. 

"You feeling okay?" Samuel fell into the couch with his freshly microwaved dinner. A few peas escaped and fell onto the couch. "Whoops."

"Yeah, actually," Armin couldn't remember how long it's been since he genuinely felt okay. "I'm feeling pretty great."

Samuel shoveled a mouthful of half frozen food into his  mouth, but offered a sloppy thumbs up in lieu of words. "Sweet," he said past his mouthful. Armin's nose wrinkled in disgust, and Samuel laughed.

He swallowed loudly. "You know," he said, briefly eyeing the show on TV, "there is one other person from school who misses you. God only knows why."

Armin scoffed, and relented to his curiosity. "Who's that?"

Samuel was lost in his cell phone, but when Armin sighed, he turned the screen around. A thread of messages shared between Samuel and Marco stared him in the eye. 

"He shouldn't want anything to do with me," Armin suddenly sounded hoarse. 

"You're right," Samuel agreed, "he shouldn't, but he does. Like I said: God only knows why."

"He does?" Armin knotted his fingers in his lap.

Nodding, Samuel threw the phone so that it bumped Armin's thigh. "Call him tonight if you feel like it. Already talked to him, and he's off tomorrow, so you party animals can kill the night talking about the past and good time long gone, and all that bullshit."

When he stood to take his plastic tray to the trash, Armin caught him by the hem of his sweatshirt. 

"Thank you," he said.

Samuel laughed. "Whatever, man. It's no big deal."

 

It was a big deal. Actually, it was a massive, anxiety inducing deal.

Armin waited until the dead of night to arm himself with Samuel's discarded cell phone. Soft snoring culd be heard from the guest bedroom when Armin decided to test his bravery.

The line rang once, and Armin's thumb hovered over the end call button. 

Twice; Armin felt queasy.

Three times and Armin was prepared to end the call.

The middle of the forth ring, Armin had the phone in his palm with the intention of ending the call when a quiet hello pierced the quiet of his room. Shaking hands directed the phone back against Armin's ear. 

"Hello?" Marco repeated seeming genuinely confused.

"Hi." Armin took a calling breath. "Marco."

Stunned silence and shallow breathing were the only things to be heard on both ends of the call. 

"Armin?" Marco's voice shook, or Armin imagined it, but his own wavered in return regardless. 

"Yeah," his laughter was breathless, "yeah, it's me."

"Oh my God," Marco's voice was muffled but there was distinct laughter. "Oh my God. I can't believe he convinced you to call."

Armin laid back and rested the phone on his chest, allowing Marco's voice on speakerphone to bounce around his empty bedroom walls. "It wasn't too hard." He paused, mulling over words and their consequences. "I owe you an apology."

"Don't worry about that," Marco refused it, "we were both at fault."

"Marco," Armin sighed, "please don't blame yourself for everything. We both know I'm the one who hurt you."

"That was a long time ago," Marco pressed, "you don't owe me an apology. I know you were only coping, and if I helped even just a little bit that makes it all worth it in the end."

Tears leaked from the corners of Armin's eyes. "I need to learn to be more like you."

"Shouldering blame isn't a trait you want," Marco assured him. "You need to focus on just being you. Speaking of which, I've heard that you've got a nice little posse formed back home."

"You could call it that," Armin smiled and propped himself onto his elbows. "We grew up with some pretty amazing people."

"We did," Marco wore a smile in his tone. "I don't regret a single thing I did or person I met. Life has been great to me."

A lump formed behind Armin's throat. His breathing was ragged and the tears flowed freely. Marco waited for him to collect himself without saying a word. "Yeah," Armin's voice was an autumn leaf, "yeah, life's been pretty good to me, too. I just didn't want to see it."

Marco hummed. "I'm glad to finally meet the real Armin."

"So am I."

 

Phone calls with Marco became an every day part of living. While walking to work, Armin was glued to his phone, and every night they talked until they fell asleep on one another. Things were different this time around. Armin didn't feel any romantic attachment to Marco, and it was a mutual arrangement. 

They were never meant for romance, and Armin had known that since high school.  It took a lot of hell and heartbreak to finally realize that he should've always trusted his instincts. They were best friends through and through.

 

"Alright, man," Samuel said one afternoon when Armin arrived home from work. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine?" Armin questioned.

"Fine enough to get me out of your apartment?" 

Armin hesitated. He knew he had the capacity to be fine, but he'd never liked testing fate. "Yeah, definitely," he said anyway.

Laughing, Samuel clapped Armin on the shoulder. "That's the fuckin' spirit. I'm just moving down the hall anyway. You're always welcome, and I'll come over any time you need me. Call me at 3:34 in the morning saying you need someone to watch shitty cartoons with and I'll be here in a hot second. Got it?"

"I got it," Armin nodded, throwing open the guest bedroom door. "Now we have to figure out how to move all your junk down the hall when we both of the strength of twigs."

"No problemo," Samuel brushed past him to begin collected clothes in armfuls. "That's what Marco's coming to help out with."

"He- Marco? What?" Armin nearly dropped the knick-knacks he'd begun to pile up. 

Samuel wore a sly smile was he carried the first of his things into the apartment across the hall. "Surprise. Out with the old, in with the new, right? He won't be here forever, but he agreed to stay a few days. Wipe that stupid grin off your face, he's here to see me and my furniture, not you."

Armin followed Samuel, stupid grin still firmly in place. "He gets to see me anyway."

"What a fucking privilege. Less chatting, more packing, Arlert."

"Sir, yes sir."

 

On the days when Marco was around, Jean Kirchtein's red convertible showed up in the parking lot far more frequently than it had before. 

"Think he's still got a thing for you?" Armin asked as he watched Marco disassemble Samuel's bed frame.

"Pft," Marco laughed, "he's straight, remember?"

Stooping down to collect the screws Marco had piling up, Armin raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe that for a second, do you?"

"No," Marco answered flatly, "but it seems like he's become extra friendly with Eren, don't you think?"

Armin hadn't thought about it, but Marco was right. They rarely left the neighboring home. "Yeah," Armin couldn't explain the twist in his gut. "I'm still holding out for him to admit his no homo man-crush on you though," Armin tried to joke past the worry.

"Never say anything like that again," Marco shoved Armin at the shoulder, "seriously, that hurt my ears. I feel less whole because of the phrase 'no homo man-crush.'"

"But you agree that it is the correct phrasing for Jean?"

Marco offered a crooked smile. "I can give you that."

 

Altogether, it took the three of them two and a half days to fully move Samuel into his new place. Samuel did minimal work and served as a distraction more than anything else. It was hard to complain, though, because most of the time they were necessary diversions when Jean pulled into the lot and ghosted through the complex just long enough for Marco to see him. 

Sometimes Marco sighed or slumped, and other times he completely ignored the sightings, instead opting to laugh boisterously loud at a mediocre joke cracked by Samuel. Jean never seemed pleased to not be the center of attention.

It was those times when Armin wondered what Eren was doing; Armin never saw him at all. With the passage of time, it was almost as if they're switched roles. Armin took on the role of living vibrantly, while Eren slinked around in the shadows, maneuvering around the times when Armin would be present. 

It hurt to think he could cause damage when the tables turned as they had. 

 

Marco remained in town for two days following Samuel moving out, and they were pleasantly uneventful. They cooked together, watched bad tv together, and dueled one another in DDR only to learn that neither of them had coordination. 

They talked about college and their jobs and their lives in general. Marco lived in Ohio now as a charity organizer to support therapy and medication for teens afflicted with depression and suicide. Marco admitted that Armin had been the reasoning behind his career choice. 

"I could've helped more knowing what I know now," Marco admitted solemnly. 

Armin shook his head against the back of the sofa. "I wouldn't change a single thing. You helped more than I can say, Marco. Without professional training. You were born for this job," Armin offered a dim smile and Marco seemed to flush. 

"Thanks. There is one thing I would change, though, if I could go back and do it all over again."

"What's that?" Armin questioned, wrist deep in their shared bowl of popcorn.

"After graduation I wouldn't run off. I wouldn't hide from you. I would've saved myself a lot of pain and grief that way." Marco steadfastly kept his eyes trained on the TV.

"You were the friend I always needed and religiously took for granted," Armin pressed his lips into a firm line. "Stop blaming yourself for my mistakes. I could've tried to find you, but I didn't. I was scared and felt that keeping that loose end wouldn't bother me, but it did. Making up with you was one of the best decisions I ever made," Armin admitted.

"So, Eren's up next, huh?" Marco shuffled around the popcorn bowl.

Armin nodded. "Eren's next."

 

Marco left, but the phone calls remained. Jean's visits also slackened quite a bit, but when Armin would mention it, Marco brushed it off and scrambled for a new topic.

Samuel still practically lived in Armin's living room, so it was unclear why he ever moved out at all. He figured it was best to leave questions unspoken. The Friday night ritual lived on. Connie and Sasha picked Samuel and Armin up. They met at the bar. They drank, they laughed, they drank some more until inevitably, Armin and Samuel would slip away to the bookstore. Bertholdt was the only one sober enough to know, but he promised to maintain secrecy. 

"There's a new release at midnight, man," Samuel spoke with his hands when he was excited, but now he used full arm motions. Armin weaved to avoid being hit multiple times. "Like big release. All my friends at the parlor are coming. We might get tomorrow off like that's how important this literary masterpiece is."

Armin laughed through his nose at Samuel's unmasked excitement. "Honestly, I'm probably just going to head home. I'm kinda tired and I have papers to grade in the morning."

Samuel rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. "You're lame as ever. I'm going to call you once I get my hands on this book. I'll read it to you as a bedtime story. I'll read it to myself as a bedtime story."

"I've never denied being lame," Armin replied, worn out and ready for the trek home. 

"See ya, man. Be careful."

"You too," Armin waved. Armin earned himself a salute from Samuel before they were both swept in by herds of people.

 

It was five minutes till one in the morning when Armin stepped inside the diner. The unfortunate employee stationed over the night shift gave an uninterested wave before turning back to his phone.

"Have a good night," Armin whispered as to not sound deafening in the peaceful quiet. A nod and a closed-lipped smile were all the teenager offered him, but that was all he expected. Taking the stair two at a time seemed like a good idea, but his slightly intoxicated brain had led him astray, and he stumbled up the last four. Collecting himself on the landing proved to be a steep challenge, and his legs seemed to forget how to hold up his own weight. Walking was out of the question.

He stood with his nose pinched between his forefinger and thumb. Deep breaths guided him on how to stand without needing to lean on someone or something.

"Are you okay?" a man's voice pierced the dark. Only a small window allowed for the moon's rays to light the second story' slender hallway, but it was enough to make out the outlines of someone sitting against the stair rail. When he turned his head, sharp green eyes caught the moonlight. Immediately, Armin was sobered by Eren's presence. 

His hand dropped to his side like dead weight. 

"I'm fine."

Eren nodded and drew his legs up so his chin rested on his knees. "I'm glad to hear it, Armin."

"Yeah," Armin whispered. The air around them felt as if it was sparking, and Armin moved with caution. "How about you?" His hand reached for the doorknob.

"I've been worse," Eren spoke in monotone. It was unsettling. Nothing about Eren ever lacked emotion, but now he felt dead. 

Though he'd turned the knob and could escape inside, Armin knew their conversation couldn't end quite yet. He was tired of loose ends and leaving words unsaid. Distance had never done him any favors. 

"What are you doing out here?" Armin asked. He shoved his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation of fleeing. "It's late."

Eren laughed and reclined his head against the banister. "I locked myself out."

"And you think staring at the door will help?"

"If that worked I'd have been inside 45 minutes ago," Eren wore a natural smile that gave his eyes a warm glow. Armin felt his stomach pool with heat. "I'm waiting for Jean to bring my spare key. He lives... a long ways from here. And he was working, so," Eren shrugged. "Who knows when he'll get here."

Armin looked at his apartment and then at the empty seat next to Eren. Before he could think twice, Armin chose to take a seat. "Do you mind company?"

"No," Eren sounded shocked at the very least, "no, I appreciate it."

"It's been quite a while hasn't it?" Armin asked once the silence had become too melodramatic for his liking. His eyes bore straight ahead, but he felt Eren's gaze fall on him. "Since we were able to just sit and talk like this."

"Yeah," Eren agreed, "months."

"Years," Armin corrected him, "I haven't been this comfortable in years."

The silence found them again, but it was comfortable. The longer they sat together, the closer they seemed to get until their shoulders touched, and Armin felt the warmth spread. The sparks still lingered in the air. 

"Do you remember," Eren said once minutes had passed without a word, "that one time when I snuck you out of your place and we wandered through the woods for miles just because I found a flower patch and thought you'd like it. That was the only night I didn't get you back home on time."

"We never found it," Armin recalled. "But you still picked every wild flower we found along the way. They all ended up in my hair."

"I'm not a good navigator," Eren admitted with a thin smile, "it's alright that I never found it again. I found something even prettier that night anyway."

"Oh yeah? Why didn't you point it out?" Armin laughed.

"Didn't have a mirror. Sunrises and wildflowers are a good look for you."

Armin slumped back and laughed just low enough so only he could hear it.

"Remember that one time we stayed at the theater for a whole day?" Eren asked.

"That was your idea. I'm not much of a thief."

Laughing, Eren rolled his eyes, "come on, Armin. Tickets were like three bucks back then. They survived the loss. Besides, dad wouldn't pick us up, what were we supposed to do?"

"Sit in the lobby and gorge on popcorn and soda," Armin retorted, "I don't know why you would think I'd forget something like that. That was both my first crime and my first time watching Shrek 2 three times in a row."

"I think I can still quote that movie in my sleep," Eren sighed, "three times might've been overkill."

"You think?" Armin studied the ceiling and listened to Eren's even breathing. "I remember one time, you're mom recruited me to help her with her sewing. We spent all day locked up in her room, and you got so jealous that you cut up all our progress when everyone was asleep."

"I'm still swearing that wasn't me."

"Yeah, okay, Eren." Armin bumped against him and they both swayed.

"Remember how we made our friendship official?" Eren laughed and cast his gaze over Armin.

Armin smirked. "Give me a hard question, Eren. You got my butt in the creek."

"Damn glad I did, too. We were weird kids," he chuckled. "Remember the monster rabbit?"

"I was eleven and scared of the dark," Armin said defensively, "remember pelting Connie with tennis balls?"

"Oh man, we should all do that again." Eren seemed to light up at the idea. "For old times' sake and all. Remember the cheese sofa?"

"I was almost suffocated in it," Armin knocked his foot against Eren. "That's now how friends treat friends."

Shrugging, Eren knocked Armin's foot back. "It worked out okay in the end."

"Did it?" Armin asked.

"Yeah, I would say this is a pretty good ending."

"It's been a rough journey," Armin's throat felt dry and he was reduced to a whisper.

An arm snaked around his shoulders, and Armin leaned into the touch. "You can say that again," Eren 's voice was just as soft.

They sat perfectly still, only the rising and falling of their chests and Eren's fingers grazing Armin's upper arm signaled that they were even alive at all.

Armin's gaze was empty, cutting holes into the floor. The time for confrontation had found him. He was strong. He was independent. He deserved answers. 

"Where did you go?" Armin sliced the delicate air between them.

Eren pulled away to meet Armin's eye. "I-Iraq?" He answered unsure.

"No," Armin shook his head. Hair fell from his ponytail holder and brushed across his face, "I know where the military sent you. That's not what I'm asking. I want to know where  _you_ went when you left the avenue. I lost you the minute you turned the corner and left our old lives behind. Where did you go?"

"I can't- I- I really don't know-" Eren sputtered.

"I waited for you. You know, it's been 8 years to the day and I still haven't gotten an explanation. I still haven't gotten peace." Tears welled in Armin's eyes and his voice quivered, "I wrote you you every day for 6 years. I fought tooth and nail to get over you."

"But you did," Eren 's voice dropped octaves and lowered in volume.

Armin's face twisted in bitterness. "We both know I've never been that strong."

They didn't look at each other. Armin had pushed away, and they sat inches apart. "I've done my time waiting. Why won't you just tell me what happened? What did I do to make leaving so easy?"

"I can't, Armin. Can't we please just forget it? I don't want to-"

"And I didn't want to suffer 8 years of depression, but we can't all get what we want."

"Armin-"

"Unless it's an explanation, I'm not interested, Eren," he felt weak. His stomach ached and his throat felt raw from holding tears at bay. "I've heard all the apologies. I've gotten all the gifts. I understand you're sorry, but sorry doesn't fix anything. It's too late for that, and you know it is."

"I'm sorry," Eren reached out when Armin stood, but it went unnoticed. 

"You should come with a warning sign, you know? Caution: Danger Ahead or something. Because every time I talk to you, I feel a little closer to hell. Remind me of that next time." When Armin closed his front door behind him, tears fell freely. He slumped against the door and slid onto the floor head buried in his hands. 

Deep, calming breaths did little to calm his nerves, but they kept him from drowning.

Armin's internal clock counted down the minutes until new footsteps ascended the stairs. 

"Help has arrived," Armin recognized Jean's voice. The heavy footsteps stopped in front of Eren's front door. "Dude," he laughed, "have you been crying? I told you I'd get here."

"I panicked," Eren's voice was far more gruff than it had been just minutes before. "Thanks for showing up when you did."

"Yeah, man. It's no big thing." 

Eren was let inside his apartment, and Armin heard Jean's car rev in the lot. 

Armin expected to hear the sounds of Eren's anxious cleaning. Chairs scraping, glasses clanking, or doors being slammed closed, but there was nothing to hear aside from stiff silence.

 

Sleep wouldn't come. Armin fought with it by tossing and turning fruitlessly, but the gears in his mind refused to stop spinning. He thought of Eren. He missed him. He missed the comfort he felt in their amicable silence. He missed the warmth Eren radiated.

He missed normalcy.

Once he'd had enough fidgeting and his body demanded something to do, Armin cautiously removed the letter box from under his bed.

Trembling fingers carded through stacks of individual letters that had gotten him through years of torment. 

 

 _Eren,_ one of them read. It was dated from his Junior year of college.

_Thomas misses hearing about you; I don't know why though. I talk about you all the time. I hope you're doing well where ever you are. Mikasa hasn't called to give me any bad news, so I'm just going to assume you're thriving wherever you are. At least one of us is, right?_

_I miss you more with every day, and I feel like that isn't normal. Does time heal all wounds or does it make the heart grow fonder?_

_I guess I'll be figuring out for the both of us._

_-Yours Truly_

 

 _Eren_ , the next one was from the period in which he'd dated Marco.

_Things are okay. Marco is taking care of me just like you wanted him to. He's a wonderful man, but I keep comparing him to you._

_He knows I am, and I'm aware of it too, but I just can't seem to stop. You're like my gold standard. No one can figure out why, though. My friends are tired of hearing about you. I don't blame them. I'm tired of talking about you, but  I can't stop. The sadness is here to stay, I think. Four years of this seems like it would be enough, doesn't it?_

_Marco seems to be getting more and more tired of this._

_We all graduate this year, and I don't see us surviving after that. I wouldn't stay if I was him._

_I'm bad for everyone's health._

_You dodged a bullet by leaving when you did._

_-Yours Truly_

 

 _Eren,_ a more recent edition read, 

_It's been five years. I still feel like I'm dying._

_Funny how that works._

_-Yours Truly_

 

Armin felt his insides being rubbed raw as he continued to paw through all the pages he'd written. The intention was to never let the letters see the light of day, much less Eren's own eyes. In his drowsy, slightly intoxicated state, Armin was past the point of logical thought, and allowed himself to have a change of heart. 

Shutting all of the letters into the box felt like closing a chapter. He scraped the box along the floor and into the kitchen where he taped the lid closed.

The box took a short trip down the hallway and was left just outside of Eren's door. The process was loud and probably woke up every single person on the second level of the diner, but that was hardly Armin's problem to bear.

He felt weightless when he closed himself back inside. The heavy feeling he'd become so accustomed to in his chest had left with the box of letters, and he finally felt some sort of peace.

He'd been patient with Eren. He'd been kind and understanding in trying to explain just how badly he'd suffered and how well deserved answers were.

Nothing had worked. Now, though, he'd laid it all on the table. Every gritty detail and blackened thought was left for Eren to bear witness to. Armin was well aware that his efforts could be for naught. 

Maybe he'd never get the answers he was looking for, but he'd come to terms with being left in the dark.

He'd done all he could do.

Armin slept easily that night. 

 

Early afternoon sun trickled into Armin's room and blinded him before he ever found the wherewithal to move out of his bed. 

His bones ached and the lingering ghost of a headache stayed with him until he'd eaten a small breakfast.

He had a phone call from Samuel with an attached voicemail from him and his friends from the parlor.

They'd gotten their book, and Armin was happy for them. Two calls from Eren also awaited him.

Armin got ready for another day. His plan was to follow his summer schedule. Park, diner, walk, gathering friends in his apartment.

He needed the companionship.

The buzzing weightlessness from the night before had stayed with him through the night. He still felt like he'd risen up as the bigger person, but as he stepped out of his front door he nearly fell flat on his face.

There, in the dead center of the hallway, Armin's box had made a return. The tape had been removed from the sides, and the lid no longer fit.

It was overflowing with papers.

Curiosity had always gotten then best of Armin, and this time was no exception. Dropping to his knees, Armin removed the lid and piles of letters sprang up, some spilling into the floor.

Armin noticed immediately that the letters in the floor had new pages clipped onto them. The ones on top of the clutter did as well.

Armin took his time shifting through the box, and soon it was clear what Eren had spent his night doing.

Every single letter had a reply attached. Each one was handwritten and extended the full length of the page, sometimes overflowing onto the backs.

Immediately, Armin's day plans changed, and he wasted no time in shoving the box back inside his apartment. 

When he was planted on the couch with his phone turned off and locked in his bedroom, Armin read.

He read until the blinding daylight that filtered through his blinds had simmered into afternoon heat. He read past blurry, tearful eyes into the night.

He read until he finally felt whole. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time after time they've failed communicating until finally writing letters became their saving grace. Eren pours his heart out to Armin and explains what happened while he was absent in Armin's life.  
> After years of heartbreak and miscommunication, they are finally ready to try again and build from the ground up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks!  
> Wellp, we've made it! One more fic down, but I still have a ton I'm planning to write. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. You've all been so wonderful and kind to me and your support is legitimately the only reason I've made it this far. I am so grateful to all of you, and I hope you all have a fantastic week!

Armin didn't have to read the first handful of letters. They'd all been written post-break up, and every word of every sentence was seared to his mind. He'd buried them long ago, but they still resided there as a faint itch.

He'd pleaded for Eren to stay. He bargained and begged and made impossible offers on the off-chance that maybe Eren would come home. He cried for Eren to come back into his life, and expressed how much he missed the light Eren shed when he was around. The world was cold and bleak there without him. Desperation took a hold in the later letters, and Armin demanded Eren reply or call. Armin claimed he didn't care about the cost. He didn't mind giving everything away just from Eren to be back home. 

Suddenly, only hearing from Eren three times a year was appealing. He didn't mind being stood up over the Christmas holiday; being left alone on his front stoop as he waited in the numbing cold didn't seem quite so harsh. All of that was worth it if he earned back that one irreplaceable piece of himself. 

Of course, all of his begging and bartering was for naught.

Eren's replies, at first, were riddled with short, meaningless lines. Armin was deaf to them.

"I'm coming home." "Be safe." "I miss you." "I love you too." "Don't give up."

Cheap greeting card sentiments weren't worth his time, and Armin flipped through them without much guilt.

Once he was thoroughly bored, he tossed those aside and dug deeper into the box.

Unfortunately, the further he reached, the darker the messages became. The letters dripped black venom and the parchment itself radiated deep self loathing. Some letters were more unsettling that others; occasionally, he would stumble across pages where he'd repeated frantic lines, etching them into the page as if he may lose his mind if he didn't.

"How do I make it stop?" one of them repeated countless times. The words bled into the margins and ran off the page. Words were blotted out with both aged ink and spilled tears. He'd marked across multiple lines with a heavy hand until the page had torn. His hands shook as the words bored into him. These were the darker sides of himself that he'd kept tucked away, and some merciful part of his brain had allowed him to forget.

He'd wanted to die. He refused to sleep, and he wouldn't eat. He only wrote, and the outcome was something that bordered on insanity. 

When he flipped the page, Eren's reply was only the phrase "I'm so sorry."

Armin pressed forward. 

He found that the most unsettling letters were written when he was sound in mind. They were the most vivid, and, therefore, the most unnerving. Armin hadn't been strong then, and he wasn't strong enough now to read through his own turmoil.

Eren had been though, and his replies bled panicked concern. 

Armin's mental health would dip severely in some letters, and Eren's replies would become less collected and more desperate. Lines that belonged in 'Get Well Soon' cards, took a turn. Punctuation was a thing of the past and unbelievably, Eren's handwriting had become worse and harder to read. The pages were crumpled in the corners, and paragraphs ran together into illegible blocks of text. Armin was no longer the one pleading, rather it was Eren's turn. And he did. He begged and implored for Armin to find any kind of help at all.

By the time Armin reached the last of his string of letters, he felt unnerved. Sitting back and staring at empty walls didn't aid the hollowness in his chest, and using the TV as background noise only grated on his nerves until, finally, he turned it off altogether. 

Armin crumpled the remaining letter in his chest as he drew in deep breaths. Shaking hands pressed the paper open. A single sentence glared at him in stark black ink. It was dated only two years previous.

"I guess this is goodbye," it read.

Flipping the page, Armin saw that Eren's reply was faint as if he couldn't draw the energy to press any further. 

What'd he'd written had been equally short, but spoke volumes about where they stood in their relationship. 

"Please don't go."

 

In solemn silence, Armin pushed the box away and shoved it against the arm of the couch. He curled in on himself until his knees touched his chin, and then he waited. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, though. He waited for daylight. He waited for comfort. He waited for peace. None of those would come to his rescue, though.

Armin wasn't sure what he'd expected to gain from sharing his letters from all those years ago. He figured that maybe his writing would build a bridge to fill the gap between them. Maybe they would see eye to eye what Eren realized the impact he'd had on Armin's life, and maybe he would feel inclined to share his past too.

They could start over. They could live happily. They could understand each other better. But, fairy tale endings had never been a friend of Armin's, and normally they left him sulking in an empty apartment with only the company of the moon and letters that were more suitable anchors. This instance was no different. 

Impenetrable black skies had consumed the daylight, and a heavy full moon hung just above the horizon.  The blaring city skyline drown out the light of stars, but from his vantage point Armin could still make out a few beaming through the faux light. His own white washed walls were painted in blue shadows that left Armin feeling empty.

He stared at the sky and at empty space alike. Occasionally, particularly loud passerby would catch his gaze, but they didn't hold his interest for long. 

A sea of letters threatened to drown him where he lay. They carpeted the floor and blanketed his legs. He felt that he couldn't do much of anything, so he sat and watched as shadows danced across his living room walls to the tune of a very distinct humming coming from next door. It ghosted through thin walls and left a warm feeling in the pit of Armin's stomach. Recognizing that melody was thoughtless; it was as easy as picking out his own mother's voice or choosing Eren's silhouette from a crowd. 

When you truly love something, the memory never goes away.

He and Eren had danced to that melody years ago when most of their peers had left and prom decorations were being torn from rafters. Armin had fallen in love to the beat of that rhythm, and Eren had remembered its every beat flawlessly despite the passage of time.

When a door closed in the other apartment, the song was muted, and Armin shifted upright as if that would bring it back. It was gone though. Suddenly, and without warning. Papers fluttered to the ground, and he waited for the song to return. It didn't.

With a ragged sigh, Armin began to collect the mess he'd made one page at a time. Once he could see the floor past aged pieces of notebook paper, Armin grabbed the box they belonged in and began shoveling them back inside in wads. He stopped short, though, when something glinted under the pale moonlight. Paper fluttered back onto the floor when Armin dropped everything he held to focus his attention on the few pages of paper taped to the bottom of the box.

Carefully, Armin picked away strips of tape and rubbed away residue.

It was a letter, but it was different compared to the ones that had preceded it. It didn't come in the form of a counterpart to one of Armin's old messages, rather it stood on its own and was dated from the night before. It was nearly illegible, which came as no surprise. Some words were smudged, others were striked through and even more were blotted out in large ink stains. 

Spelling errors ran rampant throughout it, but somehow that made Armin feel like he was a Freshman in college and Eren was training to save the world. Eren didn't know how to use stamps or a dictionary. The peace Armin had been looking for sparked deep in the recesses of his chest. And the flames were fanned when Armin realized what the letter was.

An explanation. 

An apology.

 _Armin_ , it began.

_Remember how in high school I always paid you to write my essays for me? You always told me that being lazy would come back to bite me in the ass someday. Back then I didn't want to believe you. I was untouchable when I was a teenager. 8 years and three drafts of this letter later, I'm finally understanding what you meant._

_I suck at writing._

_So, I guess you were right. That's no surprise though, huh? You always are._

_I can't seem to write what I want to say, so please bear with me. This is going to be the dictionary definition of a hot mess, but I'm really trying, okay? I'm trying to hard for you. It's long overdue; I know that. But, I just need you to be patient just a little bit longer._

_I can make this work, just please wait for me, Armin._

_This letter might be a little long, because it's a lot of different things. First of all, it's an apology. Actually, it's a ton of apologies. You deserve every one of them. It's also my story from the war and a little after it. I know neither of us are the same people we were 8 years ago. We hardly know each other anymore. We're shaped by our pasts and mine isn't so bright, Armin. It really isn't. I've been too much of a coward to look back on what happened while I was in the Army, I'm tired of living in the rear view mirror because I'm missing everything that's up ahead. I want to tell you everything, I think. I just can't do it face to face._

_Never think I'm the strongest of the both of us. I'm scared all the time._

_I'm not the same person I was back then, but you know that. You've always been able to read me like a book, and I hope that never changes. You've always been the better part of me. You keep me in check and knock me off every high horse I find. I needed you when I was on the battlefield, but I let you go, and I've paid for that and so did you._

_I've never made a bigger mistake in my life. Honestly, I don't think I could ever fuck up worse than I did when I sent that last letter. I hurt you. I thought I would be protecting your well-being in the end, but... Armin, I damn near killed you. I almost killed the person who loved me more than his own self. I didn't consider your side. I didn't consider how unfair I was being._

_I only considered me. Again, that's a common trend with me._

_You've put up with so much. I'm amazed by how strong you are, and how well you handle all the bullshit I dish out._

_Armin, I made dodging bullets a career, but you're the real hero. **You're**  the one who's strong. I never was. I was just bold and stupid, and loud as hell. You were always the rock to lean on, but you still treatedme like I'd hung the stars in the sky. You're a wonder, Armin Arlert. I'm amazed by you._

_Anyway, after this long winded introduction (can you say stalling?) it's time to get down to the nitty gritty._

_I'm so sorry, Armin. If you're still reading, thank you. You're so patient, and I'm so sorry._

 

_You were right (again). I did leave you the moment I turned out of the avenue, but my heart didn't get the memo until a lot later. My brain knew I couldn't keep stringing you along, and from day one of Basic  Training it was drilled into me that clinging to outside relationships could be devastating. Not only to me, but to the person I was forcing to ride alongside me._

_We were doomed for that point on._

_Writing that first letter to you was easy (If you don't consider my struggle sending it. No one told me about the god damn stamps). I was so happy to be talking to you again. I missed you like hell, but in my head, even though my brain is small as hell, I knew that I was only making things worse. Then I get your reply, and that ease left real quick. You were so happy. You were so proud of me. You told your friends about me, and I felt like I was dragging them along too. Suddenly, I felt responsible. What if something happened to me? I would disappoint your friends, and I would destroy you. No one would go unharmed, and I wanted to be a hero, I guess. I was gonna save you all._

_I imagined you writing me for months after I'd kicked the bucket and then finally thinking you got a reply. Except that letter wouldn't be written by me; it'd be a notice of my death and a piss-poor apology courtesy of Uncle Sam's favorite minions. I didn't want that to be the last you'd heard from me. Or about me, I guess._

_If I had to go out, I wanted to go out knowing that you knew I loved you. I wanted to know that I'd tried my best to show that I cared while still severing all contact. I needed a solid ending, you know? You didn't deserve to be strung along anymore because that's exactly what I was doing. I knew you would cling to it if I tried to end our relationship gently. You're so dedicated, Armin, but I knew the odds of coming out alive or in sound mind weren't in my favor. It had been pounded into my head over and over again that once we left Basic we'd be entering a different world. We wouldn't be living anymore, instead we'd be struggling to survive. I went into the Army prepared to take on Hell with a water pistol, but the more reality was drilled into our heads, the more I started to doubt myself. At first, there was no other option but for me to survive. But then, I remembered, I was human. Just like the countless other people who'd gone in prepared and came out in a casket. Or worse: they just didn't come out at all._

_So, I wrote the break up letter. It was all fine until I had to send it. That's when I got scared. I held onto it. I read it over and over again. I edited it. I read it. I stuffed it under my mattress and then read it again. I cried over it. But, I was too scared to do anything with it._

_Then you wrote and told me that you would be coming home for Christmas. The dates we'd be home lined up perfectly, and I knew that was my chance. I was going to spend the best week of my life with you and then hand off the letter as I was stepping out the door. It was supposed to be seamless, but I'll be god damned if I didn't chicken out again._

_I abandoned you. Again. I stayed at Basic, and you waited for me. You waited, and waited, and I let you down. I'm so sorry I've been a grade-A let down for you in every stage of life. If it were an Olympic sport, I'd be a gold medalist._

_Most of the soldiers I was training with had left for the holidays, but a few of us stuck around. Most of them had nothing they wanted to return to. I had everything to look forward to back home, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't look at you knowing what I was planning when our time was up. So, I stayed, and I hid. Not a big surprise at this point, is it?_

_Those of us who stayed over Christmas got some surprise visitors who changed most of our lives for good._

_Commander Erwin Smith and Captain Levi Ackerman were introduced to us stragglers as our future leaders. The Commander was missing an arm, and his Captain looked like he hadn't had a reason to smile in years. That's when I became genuinely afraid of what my future looked like. I became aware that I'd made a terrible mistake. I wasn't going to be a hero for humanity. I'd only signed up to sacrifice myself. I would be nameless. I'd become part of a faceless sea of lost soldiers._

_I didn't feel like a hero anymore._

_None of us were heroes. We were just delusional and brash and too cocky for our own goods in the beginning. That was replaced with doubt real quick though. We saw the future, and it was bleak.  
_

_A few trainees ran home, but I couldn't face you, and I couldn't let Mikasa see that I was a coward. She'd always been the one to end the fights that I started, and she warned me that she wouldn't be there to save my ass once I left home. I wasn't about to swallow my pride and prove her right. I thought I'd drop dead before giving her the privilege of knowing she was right. I'd kind of dug my own grave, you know? I didn't want to lie in it, so I embraced my future with open arms. When I was young and stupid, it seemed like the obvious choice. I mailed that last letter right before I was deployed, so even if you did reply I'd be gone before the response came. I'd never have to know how I'd devastated you._

_I didn't have to own up to the fact that I was a failure who couldn't keep promises._

_War was hell. I was stationed in Iraq. Our squad lived on the front lines caught between the spray of guns and falling shells. We were in hiding a lot, but everything was going well for us. Minor wounds happened. Sometimes people were grazed by bullets, and there were a few soldiers who passed out due to heat exhaustion, but considering our conditions we were all okay. We were almost happy._

_We all made pretty fast friends with each other. Captain Levi seemed to respect me, which was more than I can say for his relationship with the other members of our party. Respect turned into a mutual liking, and that mutual liking turned into occasional flings when we could find the time and privacy._

_I think I became more emotionally attached than he did, but I expected that._

_We lived in that weird limbo for a while. I admired him, and he tolerated me. It was the most I could ask for, and it gave me reason to trek on. He became an idol, you know? He was fast and smart. He tore through throngs of people like you wouldn't believe. There was no one stronger than the Captain, and it made me like him even more. I wanted some of that._

_All of it fell apart in a single second, though._

_That day is embedded in my brain and I see it when I close my eyes. That day was blistering hot. The sun reflected off pavement, and we were all cooking in our gear. I remember there was a pool of sweat in my boots and under my helmet. I should've known the day would prove to be hell, but I've always been naive haven't I?_

_The way our mission had been described it seemed easy, especially compared to our normal jobs of sitting tight and protecting other troops as it rained bullets. All we had to do was provide supplies to civilians stuck in the area. Water was the main priority, but we had some food and soap as well. It wasn't much, but they were so grateful. Most of us went door to door while Levi watched over us from the center of the road. He mostly just griped and told us to work faster, but that was the Captain's way. It made us laugh more than anything else, and I think he knew that. Everyone was in such good spirits even if we were literally sweating to death. But then, there was a single gunshot, and everyone scrambled._

_Civilians fled inside while me, two men, and one woman ducked for cover behind the nearest home. Soldiers were scattered around the neighborhood, crouching behind whatever they could find and reasonably fit behind. There wasn't much, but we made due. Some men and women prayed, but Levi stood in the same place. He hadn't moved. I don't think he even flinched. He just looked pissed off and ready to strike. We were all ready to defend him to the grave, though some were more reluctant than others._

_I was ready to pounce._

_There was this sickening silence. The wind had stopped, birds had vanished, even the soft sobbing from inside houses had ceased. The air was dead. That's when this indescribable dread leaked into my bones. You know that feeling where you know something bad is going to happen, you just don't really know what but your body is prepared for it? That was me. Levi stood there scowling at an invisible army of snipers, hidden on the tops of buildings and in far away tree tops._

_The minute he opened his mouth, though, it was all over. It was just one bullet that took down the strongest soldier our platoon had ever known. Straight through the back of the head, it left a gaping hole in his forehead. He fell hard enough to crack his skull on the cement. Just dead weight._

_I'm not sure how to describe the feeling when you watch someone die. I think I went into shock first. Everything went blank, and I couldn't feel anything. I forgot how to breath, and for a second it was hard to remember where I was. I wasn't hot anymore. I didn't feel anything at all. There was this sobbing and screaming from somewhere behind me, and that pulled me back into reality. I felt scared after that. No one knew what to do. The Commander was telling his strategy to all the soldiers he could, but we were too spaced out; we didn't have a single chance if we tried any attack at all. I was so scared, Armin. But then, I saw his body. I really saw it for the first time, and the anger hit me like a freight train._

_I was literally blinded by rage. I was white-hot sunlight and nothing else. I didn't hear anyone telling me to stop. I didn't feel soldiers grabbing at me to hold me back. It was just me against the world, because then it was personal. I lost every single bit of control, and I ran out to where the Captain had dropped, guns blazing. I took three shots until I fell. A fellow soldier, a woman who ran in after me, took a bullet straight to the chest and dropped dead. I saw another man take two to the stomach before I finally blacked out._

_I don't know how long the fight lasted, or which side gave up first. I do know that I was one of very few to survive though. No one ever blamed me for killing an entire platoon of soldiers, but, Armin, I think the guilt weighs more every day. The survivors knew it was my fault. I know it was my fault. I'm haunted by it. By their friends and family and all the love they showed me while we were together. I killed people I cared about._

_I'm a failure._

_Unsurprisingly, I was deemed unfit for further service six years into my eight year tour, and I was dishonorably discharged. That means the army refused to give me a penchant or fund therapy. I have pretty severe PTSD, but I'm lucky. It's never on the forefront of my mind. It's more baggage than anything else. Loud noises send me into shock, and the guilt doesn't let me sleep on most nights. That's why I picked up jogging. For a while I can just focus on that and nothing else. There's nothing better than that for someone like me._

_After the discharge, I was sent back to the States where I loaded up on a Greyhound bus and rode until they kicked me off._

_I wound up in Mitras. I was homeless and too prideful to call for help. I didn't know how to contact you anymore, and I couldn't let Mikasa know what had happened. If I thought she'd boast before, I knew she would then. Because she was right, and if I'd listened to her I would have saved lives. I would have been spared the heartache._

_I hated when she was right, so I just didn't let her know she was as if that was some kind of victory for me._

_You know, surviving was even harder once I was home believe it or not. I was used to looking around corners and covering myself from exploding shells, but no one had really told me how to protect myself from my thoughts. I was alone and I was guilty. I don't know f it's possible to explain the... just the self loathing I was feeling. Living on the streets was awful and only added to it. Loud noises sent me into a panic, and I was suspicious of everyone. I saw threats everywhere. I was paranoid all the time, and that wears down on you fast, Armin. I reached the end of my rope while I was home, not when I was on the battlefield._ _I don't know what finally took mercy on me whether it be fate, Karma, or God, but Jean found me one morning on his way to work. We'd never really been all that close, but he didn't hesitate to drape me across his shoulder and drag me back to his apartment._

_I think he took a sick day so he could help me. I was just happy to get a shower, so I never asked questions._

_Jean let me stay with him for two months before he gave me an ultimatum: call for help from Mikasa or he would. Either way, I had to swallow my pride, but I figured she'd handle the news better if it came from me. I guess I was right, but she was still pissed. I feared for my life more then than I ever had in Iraq._

_She traveled two days to come and get me._

_After a lot of scolding and doctor's appointments, she took me back to the house we grew up in. (Why doctors you ask? She was convinced I'd caught a disease or bumped my head for not trusting her enough to ask for help. I hadn't bumped my head by the way, and I'm disease free. Healthy as a horse some might say.) Mom had passed while I was away, and dad left without even leaving a note. But, the money from mom's account had been passed down to an account meant for the two of us to share. After a few months, when Mikasa was sure I would be okay on my own, she went back home to her job and friends and left me the money from the joint account with multiple contact phone numbers. She'd also left the business card for a therapist. I threw that away._

_I deserved the nightmares and constant paranoia._

_I had a roof over my head, and food in the refrigerator, but I felt worse off than I had when I was homeless. Living there wasn't the same without the boy across the street, and moving on from day to day became a burden._

_I'd never felt more lonely than I did during those months._

_Eventually, I called Mikasa and told her I had to leave. She asked why. I told her. She said she thought she knew where to find you, and it only took two weeks to sell the house. We turned right around, paid the down payment for my apartment, and I began moving in the following day._

_It had been a really long time, but I was starting to feel hopeful._

_Being close to you has helped, even if I knew you weren't thrilled to see me. I know I've been a pest, and that I've avoided all the pain I caused you, but I think that's because you took that burden off of me. Just seeing you alive and thriving with a job and friends; it was easy to forget what had happened. It was easy to just not revisit it. I looked to you, and I thought there was hope for me too. You felt like home, and I didn't feel alone anymore. I clung to that feeling without even thinking about how I might have been hurting you in the process._

_You know, I learned that if the brain experience severe trauma it can shut down those memories, and I think that maybe that's what I was trying to do. I didn't explain myself, because I didn't want to and I was trying to hard to cut that piece of myself away. I wanted to act 18 and care free like nothing had ever changed between us. Thank you for not letting that happen, Armin. You deserve to know the whole story, and I'm glad you stuck to demanding what you knew you deserved. You've changed a lot since we last spoke, but it's all been for the better. You're your own person now, and you're better than ever. I'm so proud of you._

_I want to be there for you from now on. I want to be the best possible person for you. I want another chance to make things right. You have every right in the world to laugh in my face and burn this letter, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask._

_I'm so sorry it took so long for me to come home. I'm so sorry I left you to suffer alone. I'm so sorry I tried to pawn you off on someone else. I wanted to know you were being taken care of, but you never needed that. You were stronger than I gave you credit for. I never treated you like an individual. I treated you like an essential part of who **I**  am. That was unfair, and it almost destroyed you. _

_I messed up. Even before it all fell apart, I'd messed our entire relationship up._

_I want to start over with your permission. Armin, we can be happy together._

_You suffocate the demons in my head, and when I'm near you I feel like I've done something right in my life. I must have to have a friend like you. I just hope that some day I can do the same thing for you._

_I love you, Armin, and I am so sorry._

_\- Yours Truly_

 

Shaking hands creased the pages, and Armin stared into nothing. He couldn't see his kitchen or the burning glow of his television that pierced the flooding darkness in his apartment; rather, he saw nothing at all. He could hear though, and what he heard was Eren's humming drifting through the night. His Eren. Humming their song. Standing was no simple task and wobbly knees threatened to fail on him when he moved, but he had to get to Eren. He had to make things right. The floor gates had been opened, and finally Armin felt the crushing pressure of how much he'd missed Eren. He remembered, suddenly, how much he loved Eren. No force on Earth could stop him from bulldozing a way to Eren's front door. He was unstoppable.

Unsure footsteps guided him towards the front door. He tripped over his own feet and pants legs, but he trekked on for the short distance. Eren's humming guided him down the wide hallways when his tear-filled eyes failed him. 

Armin didn't hesitate to let his fist fall against Eren's door once it was within striking distance. The resulting crash was probably loud enough to wake both Samuel and the family across the hall. The humming stopped and all of the stirring from behind the door ceased, but no one came to answer him. Armin knocked again and with more force.

There was movement from behind the door but it sounded further away than before. Frustrated and sniveling, Armin raised his fist again, but when it fell there was no contact. Rather, the door stood wide open and Eren stood in its place. 

Silence fell over them both, and when their eyes locked, Armin felt his blood spark. It was a familiar heat that brought him back to a time when he was stuck pining over the wonderful, fiery boy who lived across the gravel road. All of the words that Armin had formed on the tip of his tongue melted and drained into his veins. 

His head felt empty, but it was euphoric.

Eren held onto the door frame with white knuckles. Heavy bags hung beneath his red and puffy eyes. They were unfocused and undeniably tired. 

His hair was mussed, his shoulders slumped, and he was shockingly pale against the stark darkness from inside his apartment. 

Armin felt his jaw unhinge, but the words wouldn't come. When he snapped his mouth shut, Eren's gaze fell away and he shifted his weight. The lump that formed in the back of his throat was suffocating. Tears pricked his eyes, and Armin gritted his teeth together as a last ditch effort to keep himself together.

It was fruitless.

When Armin cleared his throat, Eren peaked up past the hair that had fallen in his face. 

Armin took in a stuttering breath that didn't quite fill his lungs. 

"I forgive you," he whispered. His words trembled. 

Eren looked confused.

"Eren," Armin stepped forward and held his face with a trembling hand. "I forgive you."

Though it took a few seconds of hesitation, Eren smiled. It was genuine, vivid, and just as breathtaking as Armin had remembered though it trembled at the corners. The obvious fatigue on his face eased, and the wrinkles around his eyes and near his mouth smoothed themselves out when he lit up. 

He was brilliant, and he was beautiful.

Armin huffed a weak laugh as boiling tears spilled over his cheeks. Eren reached out, and Armin fell into his arms without any prompting, knotting his fingers into the fabric of Eren's t-shirt. With his face buried deep in Eren's chest, Armin wept. Strong, calloused fingers thread through his hair and pressed him closer. 

When Eren pressed his face into the crook of Armin's neck, he felt tears dotting his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Eren."

With his knees buckled, Eren sank to the floor and dragged Armin with him. A quivering breath ghosted over Armin's exposed skin, and Eren's tears raced along his collarbone before being caught by the neckline of his shirt. 

"So much has happened in eight years, Armin, and I've changed in every way I know how to, but I never stopped being in love with you. Not for a single second." Armin felt Eren's lips brush against his neck as he spoke. 

When Armin's brushed hair away from Eren's face it was clear to see that he was on the brink of tears. Suddenly, Armin found himself in the same position and his vision blurred. "I love you too," he said in a strangled whisper that shook and swayed as he spoke. 

Eren laughed and leaned back with an unashamed smile that was both broad and toothy despite the notable tear tracks that shined against his cheeks. "I didn't think I'd ever hear that again. Coming from you, I mean."

"Yeah," Armin agreed, "that makes two of us."

Stray tears fell from the corners of his eyes, but Eren was there to catch them. Careful kisses traced their stinging paths, and Armin clung to Eren until breathing came easily and the threat of tears had passed.

Finally, peace had found him on a cold hardwood floor in the dead of night where he and Eren sat tangled with each other. Impenetrable shades of black gave into brilliant pinks and purples when morning chased away the night. Warm morning sunlight filtered in through uncovered windows and cast elongated shadows across the building, but Eren was still bright despite them. 

Armin's stomach exploded with butterflies every time Eren laughed or when his fingertips would graze exposed skin. Never in his wildest dreams did Armin ever think he would have the ability to turn back the hands of time to when he was 18 and madly in love, but life and love work in mysterious ways an he wasn't complaining. 

Eren was the one to finally break their moment.

"I can't actually feel anything below my neck anymore," he whispered between kisses. Tinkling bells sounded downstairs signalling the Diner's first customer of the day had arrived. Pedestrians also began frequenting the sidewalk, making themselves known by the laughter that punctuated their sentences and the occasional scuffing of footsteps in dead silence. 

Armin wriggled into the floor and pushed onto his feet with a hand outstretched for Eren to latch onto. "Not as young as you used to be," he commented.

"But just as spry."

"I think I'll take some persuading to believe that."

"Just give me a couple hours of sleep and a pot of coffee, and I got you." Eren guided Armin inside before locking the door behind him and promptly turning on his heels towards the kitchen. 

"Want me to grab something from the Diner?" Armin moved to reopen the door. "I owe you quite a bit of coffee."

Eren clothes-lined Armin to drag him back towards the living area. "About a years worth," he agreed, "but I can make my own. I'm thinking I'm not going to be doing much of anything today. Sound okay to you?"

Fatigue was catching up to Eren and it was obvious in the way his shoulders slumped and his face had seemingly aged a few years over night. "Yeah," Armin relented and fell into Eren's sofa. Almost immediately his eyes felt heavy. "But, I am kind of opposed to you making the coffee."

Stopping dead with mugs dangling from his fingers, Eren squinted in Armin's direction. "Why?"

"Because the last time I drank some that you made it tasted like kerosene and was probably just as flammable."

Eren's laugh boomed and bounced off walls accompanied by the sound of oak cabinets slamming shut. "I was like 8. I've matured since then."

"Is that so?" Armin asked tucking his knees under his chin.

Shrugging, Eren dropped the mugs on the counter and leaned across it, chin propped in his palm. "Only enough to know how to make a decent cup of coffee." 

"Okay," Armin's laugh was worn, "I think I can believe that." 

 

Unbelievably, Eren had, in fact, matured enough to make coffee that didn't burn like liquor or stink like jet fuel. Armin would have been lying if he denied feeling an inkling of pride. Modesty was a stranger to Eren, though, and he was sure to remind Armin of how wrong he'd been whenever an opportunity presented itself.  

Rain battered the living room window, and an opaque cloud cast a heavy overcast over the entire town. Though the wall clock read that it was five minutes till noon, Eren's apartment was dark as night. The low buzzing of the TV and the drumming of the rain was just loud enough to keep Armin on the brink of unconsciousness as he matched his breathing to the rising and falling of Eren's chest.

"See?," Eren prompted when the commercial break started. "No coughing fits or coffee induced trips of the E.R.? You're not even close to dead yet."

"Yet," Armin argued, and they fell back into silence.  

Once Armin had nearly fallen asleep, it was Eren's voice that dragged him back out of it. "It's almost like I've learned a thing or two in eight years."

"Apparently the art of silence wasn't one of them," Armin muttered past lips that refused to be moved. 

The laugh Eren gave was deep enough to swim in. It was hearty and warm and felt like home. "I never did know when to shut up."

Armin nodded.

One bad talk show ran into a new terrible sitcom, and Armin still hadn't fallen asleep though he'd been pretending to for half an hour. Eren wasn't in a much better state as he floated in and out of wakefulness. 

"Armin," he said again, but this time his voice was heavy and sleep laden. It dragged and scratched, pleading for rest. 

Groggy and confused, Armin twisted until he could see Eren's face clearly. 

"Eren, I may not have died yet, but you are treading dangerous territory."

Eren laughed and guided Armin's head back onto his chest, tilting his own head back as he did so. With his eyes closed, he stroked Armin's hair. "It can wait," he whispered. 

"You're damn right it can," Armin said into Eren's chest. 

Long minutes passed. Eren's breaths became longer and more evenly spaced while Armin sat curled against Eren's side. His attention was dedicated more towards the sitcom on TV than it was to sleeping.

"I just wanted to say," Eren's words were fatigued and they slurred together when they rolled off his tongue. "I've been unhappy for a really long time," his sentence was broken by a powerful yawn, "but right now I'm the happiest I've ever been. You've got a super power, Armin, and I'm the luckiest man in the world."

 

When they woke, it was three in the afternoon and though they weren't particularly well rested, their spirits were higher and their emotions more stable. Running on two hours of sleep and a mug of barely drinkable coffee, Armin felt more awake than he had in years. 

"I'm going out tonight," Armin announced loud enough for Eren to hear from his bedroom.

"Honestly, I think you party more now than you ever did when we were kids," Eren said, toweling off his hair as he stepped into the hall. The towel was discarded on the back of one of his two recliners before he met Armin in the kitchen. 

"It's not a party," Armin replied over the clink of coffee mugs as he shoved clean ones into the cabinet, "I'm going to the bar with friends."

"Sounds like a party to me," Eren propped himself against the cool tile counter, "anything with alcohol counts as a party."

"Yeah," Armin agreed, "when you're underage maybe."

Shrugging, Eren pushed himself up until he was seated, feet dangling just above the floor. "That's just what the adults want you to believe. When are you heading out?"

"Well," Armin pushed away from the sink to stand in front of Eren. His knees knocked Armin's hips when he swung his feet. "I was thinking I'd leave whenever you were ready."

Eyebrow arched, Eren leaned back, hands pressed flush against the counter. "You want me to go with you to your party?"

"Not a party," Armin corrected. 

"You're inviting me to your not party? Sounds lame," Eren offered a snide smile, and Armin huffed in denial.

"I'm the only lame one, I promise." Armin nudged Eren's thigh, "you can liven it up, yeah?"

"Why do I believe that you're the lamest?" Eren pondered, reaching out to ruffle Armin's hair. Armin bowed his head with his nose wrinkled. "I'll think on it, okay?"

A soft hum buzzed on his lips when Armin leaned in to kiss Eren's cheek. "So we'll meet here at 6?"

Though Eren laughed, he didn't argue. "It's a date."

 

Eren had never been a friend of punctuality, and when Armin stepped into his apartment at 6 exactly, Eren was still roaming the living room without a shirt and his pants unbuttoned. 

"I did say 6, right?" Armin asked, standing by the door with arms folded over his chest. 

"You also said I needed to liven up the party-eh, the no-fun-allowed-alcohol-gathering. I figured the stripper look would be a good start," Eren's grin was cheeky, and Armin felt his heart flop pitifully in his chest. Fire lit his veins when Eren pressed a kiss to Armin's forehead. "Honestly, though, I kinda just woke up five minutes ago and am both disoriented and confused. What time is it?"

"A little past six."

"God, it's so far past my bed time," Eren complained while trekking down the hallway. When he reappeared, he was closing the buttons of a dress shirt.

Armin's laughter tinkled in the air like music. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say you were spry?"

"I also tend to overestimate myself," Eren said, raking impatient fingers through bed tousled hair. "Believe it or not."

When Armin reached out to comb his hair more gingerly, Eren knelt with his head bowed. "Oh, I believe it. Some things never change."

Green eyes flashed behind lose strands of dark hair, and the smile Eren wore was just as bright. "I missed this."

"You're just as sappy as you used to be, too," Armin quipped masked behind a smile. 

There was no denial from Eren, he only brushed his lips against Armin's before clamoring back through the hallway on the hunt for his shoes. Once Eren had finally collected himself enough to be escorted in public nearly 45 minutes had passed, and when they'd left the apartment they were greeted by a disgruntled and angry Samuel who continued to unabashedly beat on the door to Armin's empty apartment. 

He'd taken a seat in the hallway, slumped against the wooden frame as he beat with a closed fist. Defeated and low on energy, Samuel let his fist fall against the door once again. 

Soft laughter pulled him out of his stupor of self pity. "What are you doing?" Armin asked with his voice arching in a smile. 

"Morale is low, spirit's weak. I've waited 12 years only to find you cheating with our ridiculously attractive neighbor," there was a hollow thud when Samuel allowed his head to fall against the door, "hi, by the way," he said.

Eren removed his hand from Armin's hip to offer a short wave. 

"Have you been drinking today?" Armin asked, thoroughly amused.

Samuel raised his hands in front of his face and squeezed his thumb and forefinger together, leaving a slit just wide enough for him to see through. "Just a  _little_ bit." In his own defense, Samuel huffed in dejection. "I was lonely, okay?"

"Okay," Armin laughed, "and how long have you been doing that?" Armin's gaze shot towards his front door and when his eyes met with Samuel's her received a scowl. 

"Only like ten minutes," Samuel said, reaching out for someone to pull him onto his feet. When Eren took his bait he seemed pleased with the outcome. "Thanks, attractive neighbor stranger."

"Eren," Eren corrected him by offering his name as a substitute. 

"Right," Samuel waved his hand through the air to brush the correction away, "Er-" He stopped. When his eyes met Armin's they flooded with realization, and he sobered up quickly. "You mean, like, Eren? Like  _the_ Eren? Like the one from back when we were in college with the shitty handwriting? Like... like  _the Eren_?" 

Armin nodded and Samuel threw his hands up. "Why did you _tell_ me that when he wasn't playing Army man he doubled as an underwear model, dude?"

"He didn't always look like this," Armin's facade was calm and collected, but his tone bubbled with excitement that matched Samuel's. 

From behind him, Eren nodded. "It's true. Turns out running from your problems does wonders for your calves."

"Does running help your face too because god  _damn_ I'd go running with you any time."

"I've never once seen you run," Armin noted while they took the stairs as a group.

Samuel laughed, "I've found a reason to start."

Armin smiled despite his cheeks aching and Eren clapped him on the back to push him out the door of the diner. "We'll work something out."

Samuel never seemed to run out of bubbling enthusiasm or witty comments to make about Eren and their current situation. For most of their walk to the bar, Samuel walked backwards to talk to Armin about Eren. Graciously, Eren never said a word about it and mostly watched out to warn people up ahead that Samuel was an unstoppable force that would turn around for no one.

They had a nice system. 

 

"EREN'S HERE!" Samuel screamed upon bursting through the bar's front door. Disregarding Armin's silent apology, Eren laughed. 

Sasha was the first the catapult herself from her seat and into Eren's arms, and Connie wasn't far behind. Lingering in the background was Bertholdt and Reiner, though Reiner seemed to be itching to throw both Connie and Sasha out of the way.

"Order as many as you want," Connie told Eren as he forced him into the seat beside his own, "tab's mine."

Eren thanked him but only requested a water. 

The bar was loud for a Friday night, but the source of the chaos was their table. Everyone spoke in unison trying to grab Eren's attention. Reiner leaned across the table and had Connie howling. Berthodlt fruitlessly tried to pull his significant other back into his seat, but he was far too drunk and heavy.

"Just wait 'til he's black out drunk," Armin offered his own advice, "they're celebrating, so you know it's coming."

"I know," Bertholdt's smile was brittle, "that's what I'm trying to avoid."

They both laughed and fell back into silence. 

Connie had taken to tossing peanuts across the table, daring Eren to catch them all. He did. Reiner was no where near as lucky though with two nailing him in the eye and one sailing across the dining area and hitting the elderly woman three booths back. The fit of giggles that followed had them all in tears and left Armin to play the role of damage control.

Everything was normal, and Armin drank it up like a man dying of thirst. Even Bertholdt seemed more relaxed, watching Reiner light up when Samuel would crack a bad joke or Eren would pick on Connie. 

"I feel fucking fifteen again, but with better company," Reiner laced one arm around Samuel while the other caught Bertholdt by the neck. "Honestly, if we dropped Connie it'd be perfect."

Connie shot two middle fingers Reiner's way. "This is way better than being fifteen," Connie called across the table, "because now we can be legally drunk  _and_  I'm not taking physical damage from you two."

"Remembered playing tennis?" Eren laughed.

"You mean pelting me with tennis balls and then running away when you hit that kid? And _I,_ the  _valiant hero,_ chased after her to make her shut the fuck up. You're all bitches," Connie shoved Eren's shoulder and knocked him into Armin. Reminded of his presence, Eren took Armin's hand under the table. 

The night passed in a series of bad jokes, and Reiner practically laying across the table to hear both Eren and Connie better more than a few times. After a while, Bertholdt accepted that he couldn't stop his boyfriend from acting like an over-sized toddler, so he stopped trying. Instead, he picked up idle chit chat with Armin until the bar was being closed and they all dangled on one another in a poor effort to stop from falling out the door. 

Bertholdt and Reiner were the first to leave when a friend picked them up in front of the bar. Once they'd stumbled across an entire block, Connie and Sasha also dropped off and retreated inside their own townhouse, leaving their original trio to make it back home.

Samuel was quieter on the way home. Mostly he tried to balance on curbs and make friends with every passing stranger. Armin wrangled him in as much as possible while Eren watched on with bemused laughter and an arm thrown around Armin's shoulders. "You know," Eren said, kicking a pebble as they walked, "I was jealous of you when I first moved in."

Armin made a confused hum, but couldn't offer words as he dove after Samuel to stop him from racing into the middle of the street. Once Armin had Samuel by the hem of his shirt, Eren continued. 

"I was jealous. You had Connie and Sasha and Reiner and Bertholdt and Samuel and Marco. They all loved you. They valued you and wanted the best for you, and they made sure you got the best of everything they had. I had Jean and Mikasa. Both of them live hours and days away.  I was jealous because you had everyone, and more importantly, they had  _you_. It felt like everywhere I went I just found more and more loneliness I guess."

"At least that all over now. The loneliness. We all love you just as much as we did before you went to Basic Training." Armin smiled. "I think Samuel is your biggest fan."

Samuel, in turn, held two thumbs up, and Eren laughed. 

"I'm glad to be home," Eren said, opening the door to the diner for Armin to lead Samuel through. 

Armin pressed a quick kiss to his lips and stepped ahead. 

 

Taking the stairs was a feat. After much coaxing and heavy sighing, Samuel had only made it halfway up and refused to move any further under the threat of vomiting. Without much effort or thought, Eren scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way, dropping him off in front of his own front door. 

In lieu of goodbye, Samuel locked himself in his apartment while saying, "I'm telling Thomas." A Skype call could be heard almost immediately after, and Thomas didn't sound thrilled to be woken in the dead of night. But upon hearing the news, he livened up like a child on Christmas morning.

When Eren faced Armin there were no words. They both wore tired smiles and bags under their eyes. 

"You need to go to bed," Armin whispered, running his fingers through Eren's hair. 

Eren nodded. "How about a sleepover?"

"A sleepover?" Armin's voice was breathy and it echoed the smile he wore. 

Nodding, Eren pressed a kiss to Armin's forehead. Dawn was already threatening to overturn the night. "Yeah," he smirked, "we can share a bed and tell ghost stories and watch movies just like when we were kids. How about it?"

Armin studied the wooden grain that ran the length of the floor for a long time before he finally gave into a nod. "I'll be there."

 

Armin shared a bed with Eren that night and every night thereafter. When they were awake, every possible moment was spent by each other's side.

When Armin went to work, Eren walked him to school. And when Eren went on his jogs, Armin was there to accompany him though he was no where near a fast. When Eren inevitably burned their dinner every night, Armin would be prepared with food he'd bought from the diner. Samuel visited often and most of the time carried Thomas with him in the form of a phone call. 

Eren had become something of a celebrity between them.

Friday nights were still dedicated to drinking and bookstore visits, but luckily for other regular patrons of the bar, Eren's presence had become far less of a sensation. Now, he was a regular. He was part of the group and all theatrics were put behind them. 

Out of a string of six months, they were only separated for one week, but Armin didn't feel the wrath of loneliness the way he used to. While Eren was visiting his sister in Vermont, Armin fell back into playing video games at Connie's house and spending ample amounts of time with Thomas and Samuel when he wasn't working. Sometimes they reminisced about old times, and other times they planned for the best time for Thomas to pay them a visit. He swore he was going to. Not because we wanted to see Armin or Samuel, though, he had to see Eren personally.

When the idea was run across Eren he only laughed over the fuzzy telephone line and agreed to whatever scheme they were trying to pull. 

In Eren's absence, Armin even slept in his own bed without any complaint or hollow feeling in his chest. He was stronger now than he'd ever been before. He was happy on his own just like he was happy by Eren's side. He was invincible now, but that didn't mean he didn't miss Eren when he was away. 

Phone calls happened nightly, and they had a tendency to be riddled with "I miss you"s and "I love you"s. There had been a few occasions when Mikasa could be heard gagging in the background of the call, and that only fueled them. 

Only one night out of a week's worth of calls did Eren not pick up the phone. After trying three times, Armin eventually called it a night and shut off his phone. Mild disappointment was settling in. Having been together for six months, Armin had hoped for at least a phone call in the other man's absence, but he'd learned long ago that no one can ever have everything they want. 

He took his victories with his losses, and though this was a loss, he still had plenty to celebrate over.

Life was treating him well. He had friends who treated him like family and the lost romance that had plagued him for years had made a complete 180. Rest came easily that night even without Eren's voice buzzing in his ear, but it was disrupted by the distinct clink of a rock meeting glass. 

Armin sat up slowly, gaze shifting around his bedroom in suspicion. There was another tap against the furthest window before he took the initiative to stand. Two more pebbles ricocheted off his window before Armin finally pulled the curtains back.

Eren stood on the sidewalk below with a handful of rocks and a beaming smile that reflected the nearest streetlight. 

When Armin shoved the window open, he dangled halfway out of it. "What are you doing here?" His laughed echoed through the empty street. "Shouldn't you be with Mikasa?"

"I ran away from home," Eren said, dropping the rocks and dusting his palm off on the back of his pants. "I realize that I fucked up with the timing of my trip and she drove me back as fast as she legally could."

"I feel like your version of legality probably doesn't match up with mine," Armin said.

Eren shrugged. "If you consider going 70 in a 45 barely illegal than we're pretty much on the same page."

"We aren't." Armin propped his chin on his palm. 

"You're lame," Eren accused.

"I neither confirm or deny."

Eren rolled his eyes before beckoning Armin forward. " _Anyway_ , come down here. I have a date set up."

Armin looked at the drop from his window into the alley below, and when his eyes met Eren's he hoped his look was incredulous. "You're insane if you think I'm coming down through the window."

"Oh come on," Eren laughed, "you used to Spiderman crawl your way out of windows all the time."

"I'll meet you in front of the diner," Armin said before slamming the window shut. The loud clatter still wasn't enough to drown out Eren's defeated "fine" as he shuffled towards the front of the building. 

Armin traded his pajama bottoms in for worn out jeans and swapped out his sleeping shirt for a sweater before he bound downstairs and nearly collided with Eren when he crashed out of the front door. 

"Calm down there, Flash," Eren said, taking his hand and guiding him away from the city, "I'm not going anywhere."

"So where's this date?"Armin asked, checking behind his shoulder to see how far they'd left the city behind. 

"Not back that way," Eren assured him. 

It was abundantly clear where they were going when they began hiking a familiar gravel road. The two houses at the end of the road were old friends, worn down by time, but the families that inhabited them were young and full of life. Armin could clearly see the front stoop  of his grandfather's house where Eren had waited on him every morning to walk to Summer School together. It was on that same stoop Armin had wasted his Christmas vacation as he waited and cried over the ghost of a failing relationship. The creek at the base of Eren's old back yard bubbled loud enough to be heard when the wind was strong enough to carry its musical sound. In his mind's eye, Armin saw their younger selves parading around its muddy slopes chasing after bugs and going for fish with their bare hands. Eren must have been hit by the nostalgia too, because he smiled as they passed though tears made his eyes glassy.

The night was reminiscent of their first night in the woods. The trees still towards over them and their bare branches resembled crooked claws, but Armin was no longer afraid. Small animals scurried through dry underbrush but Armin didn't so much as startle when they would take off. He'd grown though this place remained frozen in time. 

Dirty strips of fabric still hung from broken, low hanging limps. They were still spotted with blood though now it looked more like aging mold or mud. 

Neither of the men required the t-shirt strips to find the clearing, but for old time's sake they followed the trail that led to the open mouth of their hide out. Wildflowers bloomed in patches, and the overhanging moon painting everything with a silver hue. The tent that had once been discarded and left as a pile of parts was now assembled, and Eren beamed with pride when Armin noticed it. 

"You finally did it," Armin laughed. 

"And it only took 9 years and some army experience," Eren hooked his hands on his hips.

"Incredible."

In the middle of their clearing, between the oblong circle of stones, was a picnic blanket tethered to the earth with large rocks and tea candles placed delicately around its edges. Scratching at the base of his neck and kicking up piles of leaved as he walked, Eren shrugged. "I didn't have much time, but you deserved something, you know?"

Armin rubbed at his eyes and sniffled despite himself. "Are you kidding? This is great."

There was a sigh of relief from where Eren stood, but he wasn't fully relaxed until he fell onto the blanket, gaze locked on the stars. Armin took a seat next to him.

"Do you still remember those constellations I taught you?"

Eren hummed. "I do. I remember that while I was in Iraq, sometimes we would get nights off and on those nights we all liked to lay around and star gaze. I taught them all the constellations because it made me feel closer to you, I guess. It reminded me that we still slept under the same sky and saw the same stars. It also gave me an excuse to talk about you an obnoxious amount."

Armin felt his face flush and he knotted the hem of his sweater between his fingers as Eren spoke. "I'm glad it came in handy."

"Yeah," Eren whispered, "so am I. It kept me grounded, I guess."

Time passed mercifully slowly that night as they shared stories and laughs. Armin thought back to when he was a child wishing to bottle time; he was sure that this would be a moment worth bottling. Eren spent hours talking about his time living with Jean. Armin learned that Eren had flooded Jean's apartment multiple times when trying to use the dishwasher, and he's once busted a window out when playing the Wii. Apparently, Jean had gotten much more patient over time. With every story Armin became more and more breathless with laughter. 

When the stories died away, they enjoyed the silence together just as much. They listened to each other's breathing and held hands between their thighs.

"Armin," Eren said, "I know I've let you down more times than you deserved. I left you when you needed me and I was a coward when I knew I needed help. But, I want to change all of that. I want to be better for you. I meant what I said, you know, about not going anywhere. I'm here from now on. For better or for worse, you have me. You saved my life over and over again, and now it's time for me to do the saving. I'm here for the long haul. You can count on me, okay?"

"Wanna seal the deal but putting your butt in the creek?" Armin asked, turning onto his side. The smile he wore crested his eyes over rounded cheeks. 

"It's too cold," Eren laughed, "fuck that."

Armin shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

 

They stayed outside for as long as they could stand it; ultimately though, the morning chill chased them away and sent them seeking refuge indoors. It didn't take long to pack up their small amount of belongings and head back towards the city. Eren toted their blanket in his arms while Armin balance tea candles in his hands. They walked side by side with the creek to their left and the rear of Eren's old home watching them as they passed. Armin deliberated the distance between Eren and the creek, and he waited patiently for his opportunity to strike. Eren made off hand comments as they walked and Armin hummed along, nodding and biding his time until they were close to the end of the lawn. Without warning, Armin rammed into Eren at full force sending him toppling into the freezing water ass first.

When Eren screamed, Armin laughed, dropped his candles and ran as fast as he could toward the main road. Eren rose from the water in record time, dripping and shaking.

"You're in it for the long haul! Deal sealed!" Armin cried before stealing a fleeting look back. The race didn't last long with Eren already on his heels. When Eren's arm latched around his waist they both toppled over in a fit of laughter. Panting and seated in overgrown grass, Eren took Armin into a sopping wet hug. A strong gust of wind rolled clouds across the early morning skyline, but Armin still felt impossibly warm. "And they lived happily ever after."

"You got that right."


End file.
